0^ 


OLIVER   OPTIC'S 

ARMY  and  NAVY  STORIES. 

A  Library  for  YnuiiK  and  Old,  in  six  volumeii. 
Itliiio.    IlluHtratcd.    Per  vol.,  $1.60. 

Til©      Hilllor     Hoy,     or    Jack 
Somers  in  ll>e  Navy. 

Tlio    Yaiilte©    IM[l<J<iy,    or 

Adventures  of  a  Naval  Utlicer. 

Brtive     Old.    Halt*   or  Life  on 

the  Quarter  Deck. 

Tlie    JSoldler    Hoy,   or  Ton 

Somers  in  the  Army. 

Tlie  Yoviiig:  X^leiiteiia.nt, 

Or  The  Adventures  f>t'  an  Army  Oti-cer. 

Fisrhtliii 

of  a  Stall 

"  Tke  writings 
f'uliaily  titled  to 
now  |)ul)liHlu>(l. 
about  tlit'Mi  wlii< 
erH.  'riio  Ihmu'I 
tain  Ironi  readni 
zi'it  and  lit'L',  am 
ol  vi-ry  useful  i 
ble."  -  TukUo  t 


OLIVER   OPTIC'S 


RIVERDALE  STORIES. 

Twelve  volumes.    ProfnsiUy  illuBtrate<l  fVom  new 

designs  by  UilliuKH.    In  neat  box. 

Cloth.    Per  vol.,  46  c. 

Little    JVIeroliant. 
Young    Voyagers. 
Ch.ristinas    Grift. 
Dolly   a.ncl   I. 
TJncle   Ben. 
Birthday   Farty. 
Froud    and   Lassy. 
Careless    Kate. 
Roliinsoii   Crusoe,  Jr. 


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MA( 

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Biiok^poi-i ,  ]^e 


Kack  BUBlMr  OMit- 
Part  af  a  NEW 
STORIES  aad 

authora. 

Aa  ORIGINAI 

A  DECLAMA' 

PUZZLES,  Ri 

All  Handam 

TBa>u:|a.so  per 

Sold  I 

^W  Rememl 
contains  inoi 
than  any  oth 
zlne  publtshe 

Specimen  copies  s 
^      cation. 

§^        LEE  Sl  SHEI 


Library 

of  the 

Uiiiversitv  of  Toronto 


r^^i*-«»r«*.H     Tloimcl,   or    Voung 

fc   Tlilstle,  or 

Ireland  and  Scotland. 

T  Young  Ameriea  in 
s. 

telle S,  or  Young 
d  and  Belgium. 

►ttagfe,  or  Young 
and  Switzerland. 

Millie,  or   Young 

most  instructive  hooks 
iithor.  and  while  niiiin- 
h  of  exeitcnient  and  iid- 
nferest  of  the  youthful 
•lit  amount  of  inforum- 
he  history,  natural  tea- 
iJH  fur-otf  land,  and  the 

and  people  which  they 


shers,  Boston. 


-t^i 


-^ 


OLIVER   OPTIC'S 

LAKE   SHORE   SERIES. 

Six  Vols.,  Illust.     Per  vol.,  I1.25. 


Throus;li  by  Daylight ; 

Or,  'I'he  Youn^  Engineer  (»f  the  Lal:e 
SliDie   Railroad. 

Lightning  Express ; 

Or,  'I'lie  Kival  Academies. 

On  Time ; 

Or,  Tlie  Young  Captain  of  the  Ucayga 
Steamer. 

Switch  Off; 

<  )r,  I'iie  War  of  the  Students. 

Brake  Up; 

Or,  The  Young  Peacemakers. 

Bear  and  Forl)ejir ; 

(Jr,  J  lie  Voung  Skipper  of  Lake  Ucayga. 

Oliver  Optii;  owes  his  populnrity  to  a  |)l('iiHniit 
Rt.vU',  mill  Id  II  roaily  svrn|iittliy  with  the  (Ircanis, 
hopes,  iispiriitioiis,  iiiui  fanoie.s  ciftlie  youiiK  people 
tor  whom  he  writes,  lie  wri((^a  like  u  wise,  over- 
grown hoy,  iiiul  his  hool<s  have  tUeretbre  a  tresh- 
neSH  and  rneiiiess  rure'v  nttiiiiied  by  hiu  t'ullow 
Bcrihes.  —  Chrislinii  Advocate. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


OLIVER    OPTIC'S 

BOAT   CLUB    SERIES. 

Six  Vols.,  Ili.ust.     Per  vol.,  J  1.25. 


s 

§ 


The  Boat  CInb ; 

Or,  The  Bunkers  of  Rippleton. 

All  Aboard ; 

Or,  Life  ou  the  Lake 

Now  or  Never ; 

Or,  the  Adventures  of  Bobby  Bright. 

Try  Again ; 

<  )r.  The  Trials  and  Tnukiiphs  of  Harry 

West. 

Poor  and  Proud ; 

Or,  Tlie  F  jrtunes  of  Katy  Redburn. 

Little  by  Little ; 

Or  The  Cruise  of  the  F"lyaway. 

Boys  and  girls  have  no  taste  for  dry  and  tame 

things t  they  want  RoniethinK  fiint  w'ill  stir  the 
hlood  and  warm  the  heart.  Optic  alwavs  iloes 
this,  while  at  the  same  time  he  iciiprovea  the  taste 
and  elevates  the  moral  nature.  The  , 'online  gen- 
eration of  men  will  never  know  how  mnoh  tlie;k' 
are  indebted  for  what  is  puri'  and  enobling  to  his 
writings.—  /,'.  /.  Schoolmate. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publirh'ers,  Boston. 

'vJ^a^ 


M)QX)^ 

OLIVER   OPTIC'S  ^' 

STARRY  FLAG  SERIES. 

Six  Vous.,  Illust.     Per  vol.,  $1.2$. 

The  Starry  Flag; 

Or,  The  Young  1- i.shennan  of  Cape  Ann. 

Breaking  Away; 

Or,   J'lic  Fortun  ^s  of  a  Student. 

Seek  and  Find; 

Or,   J'he  Adventures  of  a  Smart  Boy. 

Freaks  of  Fortune ; 

Or,  Hall  Round  the  World. 

Make  or  Break; 

'••,  Tiie  Rich  Man's  Daughter. 

'^  "  lliver; 

l.i.ck   liradtord  and  his  Tyrants. 

These  books  are  exciting  narratives,  and  f\ill  of 
stirring  adventures,  but  the  youtlil'ul  heroes  of  the 
stories  are  noble,  self-sacritlciiig,  and  courageous, 
and  the  stories  contain  nothing  wliicb  will  do 
injury  to  the  mind  or  heart  of  the  youthful  reader. 
—  Webster  Times. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


OLIVER   OPTIC'S 

WOODVILLE  STORIES. 

Six  Vols.,  Illu.st.     Pcr  vol^  $1.25. 


Rich  and  Humble; 

Or,  The  Mission  of  Bertha  Grant. 

In  School  and  Out; 

Or,  the  ( omn    ^t  ol  Richard  Grant 

Watch  and  \^ait; 

Or,  The  Y.,ai;«  Fugitives. 

Work  and  Win; 

Or,  Noddy  Newman  on  a  Cruise. 

Hope  and  Have; 

Or,  Fanny  Gram  among  the  Indians. 

Haste  and  Waste ; 

Or,   The  Young  Pilot  of  Lake   Cham- 
plain. 

Oliver  Optic  is  the  apc^stolic  successor,  at  the 
"  Hub,"  of  Peter   Parley.     He  has  just  completed 

the   "W IvIIU    Stories,"  by  tfie  publication  of 

"Haste  and  Waste."  The  bi-st  notice  to  give  of 
tlmn  is  to  mention  thpt  a  couple  of  youngsters 
pulled  them  out  of  the  pile  two  hours  since,  and 
are  yet  <le\oiuiiig  them  out  in  the  suinnier-housc 
(a.oeit  autumn  leaves  cover  it)  oblivious  to  mufBn 
time.  —  (V.  }'.  Leader. 


LEE  &  SHEPARD,   Publishers,  Boston. 


-«/0l 


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[x^«^>^  V-<>— ^ 


„^^?fW^> 


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;\    Cit^'  '^- 


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The  Young  Dodgk  Club. 


THE    SEVEN    HILLS. 


BT 


•      PROF.  JAMES  DE   MILLE, 

Aurnou  OK  "the  b.  o.  w.  c,"  -the  hoys  of  ouan,,  prk  srnoot," 

LOST    IN    THE    TOO,-    "fFRK    IN    THF.    WOOLS,'  '•  I'ICKEI> 

VV  ADRIFT,'  "THE  TRF.ASirUK  OK  TIIK  8KA8,' 

"  AMONG  THE  BBlOANDb,"  KTO. 


ILLV8TRATED. 


BOSTON: 

LEE    AND    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS. 

N^KW-  YORK: 

LKE,  SIIEPAKD  AND  DILLINGHAM. 

1873. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872; 
"^*'  By  lee   and  SHEFAllD,  /  ^ 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 

-,i"-_!   ■  ■  ■  .-■-.  :«••-■-■  ''\'  :]■'.  ■■■■■;  — ■■■  '■»  -iMT'.i  ■'  .•;>,::.,  •^lU'iiji J 


■  •»"■'■ " 


■:^_./-,'-/=    i':--v- ;- r.-s/ ;?  iT   -    ;^;^: 'i/j     '^H^*' --'- :;t:vfW'iC>  "  '" 
-V' -  '•■.-■■  -  • -'■     '     '!•-    -.      •  ■'-■.•-'  g«y-  •■.-■ 

Electrotyped  at  the  Boston  Stereotj-pe  Foundry, 
Td  Spring  Lane. 


CON^TEN^TS, 


^:^7>intrf^r  CHAPTER    I.    .;iW, 

•^  PAGE 

Rome.  —  Abroad  to  *see  the  City.  —  The  Monuments  of 
the  Past.  —  Busy  Life  in  the  crowded  Streets.  — The 
Castle  and  the  Bridge.  —  The  yellow  Tiber.  —  The  vast 
and  wondrous  Dome. —  First  Impressions.  —  Ascent 
to  the  upper  Regions.  —  A  strange  Encounter.  —  Da- 
vid comes  to  Grief —  The  lost  Companions.  —  The 
Village  in  the  Air.— Jack  and  the  Bean-stalk.     .        .     n 

CHAPTER   II.        : 


A  singular  Promenade.— Wonderful  Scenes.  — Bewil- 
derment of  David.  — A  sudden  Interruption  of  his- 
Meditations.  —  Runaway  Donkeys  on  the  Roof  of  a 
Church.  — The  Pursuit.  — The  cast-iron  Gendarme. 
—  The  Boys  under  Arrest. —  Despair  of  David. — 
Flippancy  of  Bob.— What  shall  we  do.?  — Tremen- 
dous Oration  of  two  Priests.  — Puzzle  of  the  Auditors 

to  whom  it  was  addressed 24 

3 


4  CONTENTS. 

^  CHAPTER   III. 

Another  tremendous  Oration  of  the  Priest,  followed  by  T 
an  Oration  atill  more  tremendous  from  Bob.  —  The 
Priests  bewildered.  —  Happy  Thought  of  David.  — 
Flight.  —  Pursuit.  —  A  headlonio;  Descent.  —  The  Ger- 
man.—  The  Dutchman.  — The  Spaniard.  —  The  Eng- 
lishman. —  The  Irishman.  —  The  Yankee.  —  Where's 
David  ? —  Debates.  —  Conjectures.  —  Final  Resolve. 
—  They  once  niore  make  the  Ascent.  .        .        .        -37 

CHAPTER   IV. 

David  a  Prisoner.  —  In  the  Hands  of  the  Philistines.  — 
A  new  Comer.  —  Padre  O'Toule.  —  The  little  Cham- 
ber.—  An  Inquisition.  — The  Rogues,  the  Spalpeens, 
and  the  Omadhawns.  —  The  Boys  all  under  Inquisi- 
tion. —  Further  Journeys.  —  The  Dome.  —  The  Lan- 
tern. —  The  Ball.  —  Boundless  View.  —  The  Exile  and 
his  Confidences.  —  The  Farewell 51 


r 


!-^,M':rv; 


CHAPTER  V. 


iU'ty 


Terror  of  Uncle  Moses.  —  Remonstrance.  —  Ancient 
Rome.  — The  Capitoline  Hill.  — The  Tower.  —  The 
Seven  Hills.  —  The  Tarpeian  Rock  —  The  Roman 
Forum,  —  The  Arch  of  Titus.  —  The  ancient  Pave- 
ment.—  The  Palace  of  the  Caesars.  —  Enthusiasm  of 
David  and  Clive.  —  Tremendous  Outburst  from  Bob.      64 


CONTENTg.  5 

CHAPTER   VI. 

The  Palace  of  the  Caesars. —  The  Mightiest  of  Ruiiir., 

—  The  Coh'seum.  —  Arches  on  A'-ches.  —  Lob  and 
Frank  attempt  to  explore.  —  David  and  Clive  investi- 
gate. —  Uncle  Moses  meditates  and  calculates. —  Sud- 
den and  startling  Interruption  of  Meditations  and  Cal- 
culations. —  A  wild  Alarm.  —  Terrific  Peril  of  Bob.  — 
Away  in  Pursuit.  .         . 75 

^^     *      -";    v'        "    CHAPTER   VII.      '^^'^''i 

P>ank  attempts  to  explore.  —  A  Mountain  of  Ruins. — 
The  paved  Way.  —  The  Relic.  —  The  fallen  Arches. — 
The  Chasm.  —  Alarm  of  Frank.  —  His  Way  cut  off.  — 
A  Retreat. — The  Effort  to  save  Bob.  —  A  toilsome 
Ascent.  —  A  severe  Struggle.  —  The  Chasms  in  the 
Way.  —  Sudden  Interruption.  —  Amazing  Discovery. 

—  A  Question  and  a  Rebuke .88 

^-     '        "        '  CHAPTER  VIII.     — 

The  Ruins  of  Rome.  —  The  Arch  of  Constantine.  —  The 
Baths  of  Titus.  —  The  Circus  Maximus.  —  Where 
Hannibal's  Camp  stood. — Where  Numa  had  Inter- 
views with  Egeria.  —  The  stern  round  Tower  of  other 
Days.  — The  ancient  Cathedral.  —  The  subterranean 

.     World.  ^  Its  Origin.  —  Its  Extent.  —  Its  Meaning.    .101 


h- 


•  CHAPTER   IX.  '^' 


The  ancient  Cathedral.  — The  Guide. —The  Stairway. 
—  The  Descent.  —  A  chill  Blast  of  Air.  —  The  City 


$  CONTENTS. 

ot  the  Dead.  — The  underground  World.  —  The  count- 
less Graves.  —  The  lr!b3'rinlhine  Passages.  —  The 
great  black  Cross.  —  A  tortuous  Path. —  The  early  f 
Christians.  —  Danger  lurking  on  every  Side.  —  Keep 
close  together.  —  The  blocked-up  Passages.  —  The 
warning  Stones.  —  The  Chapel  under  Ground.     .        .112 

_^.     i^'.-M.-::'-    ''"C      CHAPTER   X.       o'V-.;j-a  hb  Ex^si 

Walking  in  a  Circle.  —  The  awful  Memorial.  —  The  Sto- 
ry of  Ansclmo.  —  The  Catacombs.  —  The  Lamp.  — 
The  lost  Clew.  —  The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 

—  Lost  in  a  Labyrinth.  —  The  Search  for  the  Clew. — 
In  the  Dark.  —  An  eternal    Separation.  —  Despairing 
Efforts.  —  Through  the  Paths,  —  The  vain  Search.  —       ^ 
The  Loss  of  Hope.  —  The  Terror  of  the  Catacombs.     124 

CHAPTER  XL 

Superstitious   Fears.  —  Another   Round.  —  The   hasty 

Tramp.  —  Alarm.  —  Awful   Discovery.  —  Lost  in  the 

Catacombs,  —  The  hurried  Search.  —  Frank  alone.  — 

A 
The  anxious  Lookout.  —  Where  is  he  ? —  Ls  there  any 

Hope?  —  Through  the  Passages   once  more.  —  The 

Warning  from  Ansclmo's  Fate.  —  How  it  all  ended.    .  137 

,    ,'r,n     ■'/■   ■  '  - 

CHAPTER  XIL  — ^    -  —  ^ -- 

A  Story  by  Uncle  Moses.  —  The  Exordium,  —  The  patri- 
otic Pedler, —  The  haunted   House.  —  A  lonely  Vigil.      'A 

—  A  terrific  Apparition. —  Terrific  Disclosures. — An 


CONTENTS.  7 

awful  Interview.  —  The  Bones  of  the  Dead.  —  What 
is  to  be  done?  —  An  indignant  Ghost.  —  Numerous 

Morals  in  a  tremendous  Story 151 

•>■             ■  ■       ■,                                              ....-..,. 
t>:r.4.>';v;        CHAPTER  XIII.       .-,      -.V  ' 
The  Heart  of  Rome.  — A  weary  Way.  — The  Network 
of  Streets.  —  The  long  Street  and  open  Square. —  Pi- 
azza del  Popolo  and  Pincian   Hill.  —  The  Egyptian 
Obelisks.  —  How  came  they  here?  —  The  Italian  En- 
gineer and  the  English  Sailor.  —  The  giant  Fountain. 
—  The  Treasures  of  the  Tiber 168 

"'  '  ""'!'*    "     CHAPTER  XIV.     "  '  '    '   ■'.  ' 

The  Churches  of  Rome.  —  A  great  Crowd  kissing  the 
Pope's  Toe.  —  Uncle  Moses  curious. — The  Line  of 
Guards,  —  Great  Eagerness.  —  Pertinacity  of  Uncle 
Moses.  —  Embarrassing  and  awkward  Position  of  the 
Swiss  Halberdiers  —  Tremendous  Sensation.     .        .  179 

.      orfi  4'  :v^-         CHAPTER  XV.      '"^i-V; 

Arrest  of  Uncle  Moses.  —  The  Gendarmes  again.  —  The 
Boys  surround  their  hapless  Friend.  —  Affecting  Scene. 

—  Mournful  Interview  and  pathetic  Farewell. —  Uncle    ' 
Moses  is  dragged  off  to  the  Dungeons  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion.—  The  Boys  fly  for  Assistance. —  No  Hope.      ,  191 

---  CHAPIER  XVI. 

New  Plans  to  rescue  the  Captive.  —  The  friendly  Waiter. 

—  The  grumbling  Englishman.  —  The  Man  of  Hon- 


8  *  CONTENTS.  • 

or,  and  the  first  Lawyer  in  Europe.  —  An  interesting 
Interview.  —  A  slight  Taste  of  Roman  Law. —  Terror 
of  the  Clients.  —  No  Hope  for  the  Prisoner,        ,        ,  203 

.  CHAPTER    XVIL    •  ;  ,    ■,, 

A  new  Plan.  —  A  Friend  in  Need.  —  Hope  arises,  but  ^ 
is  followed  by  Despondency.  —  The  Agony  of  Hope  ^ 
deferred.  —  Back  to  their  Lodgings,  —  Uncle  Moses. 

—  Immense  Sensation.  —  Joyful  Reunion.  —  The  Sin- 
gular Report  of  Uncle  Moses.  —  Unusual  Prison 
Fare. —  Ludlow  to  the  Rescue.       «  ,        ,        ,        ,  216 

■/!■,!,'■:/;;■  ■'-■-■  •'  ■■::  -'  V     '>:.'.  V   '— 

.  .,,,.  ■-       ,,,,'  CHAPTER   XVIII.       ,,   .,  ,        ,,;;. 

Celebration  of  the  Captive's  Delivery.  —  Arrival  of  Lud-  - 

low. —  Congratulations. —  Padre   O'Toule  is  dumb-  - 

founded.  —  The    Roman    Season.  —  The    Approach  '- 
of  Lent  — Farewell   to   Gayety.  —  The  Glories,  and 
Wonders,  and  Festivities,  and  Extravagances  of  the 

great  Roman  CarnivaL 229 

,'■..;.  ,,,.J.-,'^.   CHAPTER   XIX.   ■■^',r^hi:::-,j,:,r^f{t 

The  Wonders  of  the  Carnival.  —  The  noisy,  uproarious, 
nonsensical,  multitudinous  Crowd.  —  A  whole  City  of    3 
Boys.  —  The  Battle,  of  the  Confette.  —  Street  Fight.      - 

—  All  the  Corso  in  Arms.  —  The  Smoke  of  the  Battle. 

—  Uncle  Moses  retires  from  the  ScQne  of  Conflict. — 
The  modern  Saturnalia .  241 


CONTENTS.  9 

CHAPTER   XX.    " 

The  Combat  deepens.  —  On,  ye  Brave  !  —  Bob  attacks  a 
French  Officer.  —  The  French  Officer  retorts.  —  Frank 
to  the  Rescue.  —  Tremendous  single  Combat. — A 
Ring  formed.  —  An  Homeric  Fight.  —  The  sympathiz- 
ing Spectators. — The  Soldier  draws  his  Sword. — 
Conclusion  of  the  Fight 253 

''«!^ -''^ CHAPTER   XXI.       v^f  >;  n-. 

Out  of  Ammunition.  —  A  fresh  Supply.  —  The  Boys  in- 
trench themselves.  —  Genera'  Assault  from  all  Sides. 

—  The  Assault  sustained  nobly.  —  A  perpendicular 
Fire.  — A  tremendous  Surprise.  —  A  sudden  Change. 

—  The  Dragoon  Charge.  —  The  Race-horses.  —  Dark- 
ness.—  Universal  Illumination.  —  A  new  Struggle.  — 
Senza  Moccolo.  —  Senza  Moccolo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o.  265 

sJf  io  ....iv     CHAPTER  XXII.         ^  ^^^ 

The  Wonders  of  the  Vatican  Palace.  —  The  Galleries 
of  Art.  — The  Apollo  Belvedere.  —  The  Laocoon. — 
The  Lapidarian  Gallery.  — The  immortal  Paintings.— 
The  Transfiguration.  —  Bewildering  Array  of  Works 
of  Art.— Interminable  Galleries 277 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  Wonders  of  the  Capitoline  Hill.  —  The  Dying 
Gladiator.  —  The  colossal  Foot.  —  The  Statue  of  Mar- 


10  .^ai.iic       ^^v.    CONTENTS. 

cus  Aurellus.  —  The  Palaces  of  Rome  and  their  Stat- 
ues. —  The  Villas  of  Rome  and  their  Gardens.  —  Too 
much  Splendor  and  Magnificence 28S 

.RL...  CHAPTER  XXIV.       ..,  HT 

The  Lenten  Season.  —  The  manifold  Throng  of  Visit- 
ors and  Pilgrims.  —  The  threefold  Charm  of  Rome. 

—  The  End  of  Lent.  —  Holy  Week.  —  A  vast  Crowd. 

—  The  Pope's  Blessing.  —  The  Illumination  of  St. 
Peter's.  —  Innumerable  Lights 299 


■a' 


'       CHAPTER   XXV. 

A  Discussion.  —  Holy  Week  versus  the  Glorious  Fourth. 

—  St.  Peter's  and  Boston  State  House.  —  Patriotism. 

—  Sudden  Interruption.  —  Painful  Discovery.  —  Most 
embarrassing  Situation.  —  Perplexity  of  the  Boys. — 
Despair  of  Uncle  Moses 308 

CHAPTER  XXVL  1   ,^>ufw 

An  early  Wakening.  —  The  Praetorian  Barracks.  —  The 
friendly  Cicerone.  —  The  Chamber  full  of  Relics.  — 
Wonderful  .Souvenirs  of  the  Past.  —  An  extensive 
Purchase.  —  A  Discovery.  —  Grand  Explanation.  — 
Farewell  to  the  Seven  Hills 320 


THE  "YOUNG  DODGE  CLUB"  SERIES. 


THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

'':M^o-mtur    CHAPTER  L 

Rome.  — Abroad  to  see  the  City.—  The  Monuments  of  the 
Past.  —  Busy  Life  in  the  crowded  Streets.  —  The  Castle 
and  the  Bridge.  —  The  yellow  Tiber.  —  The  vast  and  won- 
drous  Dome.  —  First  Impressions.  —  Ascent  to  the  upper 
Regions.  —  A  strange  Encounter.  —  David  comes  to  Grief. 
—  The  lost  Companions.  —  The  Village  in  the  Air.  — 
Jack  and  the  Bean-stalk. 

FIRST  visit  to  Rome  is  an  event  in  the  life 
fevv^  of  every  one  ;  and  great  was  the  enthusiasm 
which  the  Eternal  City  produced  in  the 
minds  of  the  four  boys  whose  wonderful  history  is 
here  set  forth.  In  their  revered  relative  and 
guardian,  Uncle  Moses,  there  was,  however,  less 
excitement;  for  age  had  tempered  the  ardor  of 
his  feelings,  and  the  journey  from  Naples  had  been 
a  fatiguing  one.  It  will  not,  therefore,  seem  sur- 
prising that  on  the  followiug  morning,  when  the 
boys  were  eager  to  go  forth.  Uncle  Moses  chose  to 
remain  in  his  lodgings,  and  seek  the  rest  which  he 
needed. 

11 


12  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

Rome  was,  of  course,  utterly  unknown  to  them ; 
but  they  did  not  for  a  moment  think  of  taking  a 
guide.  It  was  early  when  tliey  set  forth,  and  all 
they  had  in  the  shape  of  a  guide  was  Murray's  im- 
mortal red  hand-book. 

So,  strolling  about,  they  soon  found  themselves  in 
a  long  street,  of  noble  appearance,  bordered  with 
stately  churches  and  houses  of  superior  preten- 
sions. Along  this  they  walked  for  some  time,  until 
they  suddenly  found  themselves  in  front  of  a  tall 
column,  whose  venerable  air  showed  it  to  be  a  relic 
of  the  past.  Around  its  sides  were  sculptured 
figures,  representing  scenes  of  battle  and  of  tri- 
umph.    A  statue  was  on  the  top.         "  '  i  - 

"  I  wonder  what  this  is,"  said  Clive. 

"  It  looks  like  Trajan's  Column,"  said  David,  re- 
garding it  with  a  profound  air.       ^    ' 

"  But  Trajan's  Column  is  put  down  on  the  map  in 
another  direction  altogether,"  said  Clive. 

"  At  any  rate,  that  isn't  Trajan  on  the  top,"  said' 
Frank.        iv^  t^  lu  i; 

"  It  looks  like  the  statue  of  some  Pop^'-"  said 
Bob. 

"  I  have  it,"  said  David.  "  It's  St.  Peter.  This 
is  the  Column  of  Antonine.  See  here  !  Here's  all 
about  it ;  "  and  he  pointed  to  a  full  and  circum- 
stantial description  in  "  Murray." 

Strolling  on  a  little  farther,  they  came  to  a 
majestic  edifice,  with  marks  of  antiquity  visible  on 
every  stone.     It  was  a  vast  circular  building,  with 


ABnOAD  TO  SEE  THE   CITY.  13 

a  portico  in  front,  and  surmounted  by  a  dome. 
This  iliey  learned  from  "  Murray "  was  the  Pan- 
theon. On  entering,  tliey  found  the  simple  majosty 
of  its  interior  more  impressive  than  anything  they 
had  over  seen.  There  were  no  windows,  but  in 
the  centre  of  the  dome  above  there  was  a  circular 
opening,  through  which  the  light  canio  down. 

Tliey  then  wandered  on  farther,  and  soon  found 
themselves  threading  a  maze  of  dingy  streets, 
which  were  lined  with  gloomy  houses.  Mean- 
looking  shops  appeared,  some  for  the  sale  of  pro- 
visions, others  for  the  sale  of  wine.  Throngs  of 
people,  chiefly  of  the  lower  orders,  surrounded 
them  —  men,  women,  and  children,  with  priests, 
and  soldiers,  and  peasants,  and  shepherds,  and  wine 
carts,  and  sheep,  and  goats,  and  droves  of  cattle. 
The  streets  were  narrow,  without  sidewalks,  and 
with  the  gutter  in  the  middle.  The  crowd  was 
busy,  and  bustling,  and  full  of  vivacity,  and  they 
gave  to  the  place  an  air  of  animation  which  the 
boys  had  not  expected  to  find  at  Rome.  At  last 
they  found  themselves  approaching  a  vast  circular 
edifice,  built  of  enormous  blocks  of  stone,  and  sur- 
mounted by  modern  fortifications,  while  crowning 
the  whole  work  was  the  colossal  statue  of  an  angel. 
It  scarcely  needed  a  reference  to  the  guide-book 
to  show  them  what  this  was.  The  statue  told 
them  that  it  could  be  no  other  than  the  Castle  of 
St.  Angelo.  But  all  interest  in  this  was  lost  in 
another  and  grander  object  which  soon  rose  to  view. 


14  THE   SEVEN  HILLS. 

"Can  that  be  it!"  exclaimed  Clive.  "  Tliat 
dome,  with  the  smaller  ones  beside  it !  But  this 
must  be  the  Vatican  Hill,  and  this  must  be  the 
Bridge  of  St.  Angelo,  and  this  river  —  it  must  be 
the  Tiber  1 " 

Yes,  it  was  the  Tiber ;  and  soon  they  were 
standing  on  the  bridge,  and  were  looking  down 
into  the  tawny  waters  as  they  rolled  beneath. 

"  It  isn't  as  largo  as  I  expected,"  sai^  Frank. 

"  Why,  you  miglit  have  known  th '  It  isn't  a 
large  river,"  said  David. 

"  Well,  so  I  might,  perhaps  ;  but  then,  you  know, 
one  is  apt  to  think  a  river  that  has  such  a  great 
name  may  also  be  great  in  size.  Of  course  it  isn't 
a  very  rational  way  of  judging;  but  still,  somehow 
or  other,  wo  do  often  think  so." 

"  I  wonder  where  the  bridge  stood  where  Rora- 
tins  fought,"  said  Clive. 

'•  That's  the  Sublician  Bridge,"  said  David.  "  Ac- 
cording to  the  map,  it  is  up  that  way,  and  out  of 
sight  from  here.     It's  around  that  bend." 

Leaving  this,  they  resumed  their  journey.  The 
domes  arose  before  them.  Could  these  domes 
really  belong  to  "the  greatest  of  cathedrals,  the 
wonder  of  the  world  ?  It  hardly  seemed  possible, 
yet  they  thought  it  must  be  so.  They  expected  to 
see  something  larger. 

"This, at  any  rate, ought  to  be  big,"  said  Frank; 
"  and  if  it  isn't,  I'll  lose  all  faith  in  wonders  of  the 
world." 


BT.  Peter's  cathedral.  16 

«  0,  weVo  too  far  off  yot,"  said  Clive. 

At  length  thoy  camo  to  an  open  place,  and  there, 
full  before  them,  rose  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter's. 
Tiiey  all  stopped,  and  regarded  it  in  silence.  Be- 
fore them  spread  a  magnificent  piazza.  Prom  the 
groat  cathedral  two  galleries  advanced,  and  from 
the  ends  of  these  sprang  two  glorious  colonnades, 
which,  taking  a  wide  sweep,  encircled  the  whole 
piazza,  and  finally  approached  to  within  five  hun- 
dred feet  of  one  another.  In  the  midst  of  the 
piazza  rose  a  lofty  obelisk  of  red  granite,  on  each 
side  of  which  was  a  fountain,  the  waters  of  which 
went  shooting  far  upwind,  and  then  descended  in 
showers  of  glittering  spray.  .Beyond  all  this, 
which  was  merely  the  outer  court  and  place  of 
approach,  rose  the  gigantic  temple  itself,  with  its 
sublime  dome. 

Yet  the  first  impression  produced  upon  the  mind 
of  tho  boys  was  a  feeling  of  disappointment.  The  col- 
onnade was  magnificent;  the  piazza,  noble  beyond 
expressiion ;  but  the  cathedral  itself  did  not  seem 
as  it  should  have  seemed  —  the  crown  and  glory 
of  all.  It  seemed,  in  fact,  less  magnificent  than  its 
gateway  and  vestibule.  It  looked  small,  and  its 
giant  dome  seemed  to  have  shrunk  down. 

The  boys  said  nothing,  but  traversed  the  piazza, 
and  at  length  entered.  Removing  the  heavy  cur- 
tain of  the  doorway,  they  passed  inside.  There 
was  a  general  blaze  of  splendor  which  dazzled 
theii.'  eyes — many-colored  marbles   in   the  pave- 


16  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

ment,  walls  of  polished  stones,  roof  of  shining,  gold- 
en hue  ;  yet  there  was  not  that  overpowering  vast- 
ness  wliich  they  had  confidently  anticipated.  And 
therefore  the  disappointment  which  the  firstglimpse 
had  caused  continued  even  after  they  had  seen  the 
interior. 

Now,  the  reason  of  this  may  easily  be  given.  It 
lies  in  the  exquisite  symmetry  of  St.  Peter's,  and 
the  careful  proportion  of  all  its  parts.  For  this 
reason,  at  the  first  glance,  it  seemed  to  the  boys 
not  much  larger  than  any  other  church.  But  this 
first  impression  passed  away.  For,  as  tliey  moved 
from  the  door,  as  they  advanced  along  the  nave,  as 
they  went  from  point  to  point,  its  size  grew  upon 
them  every  moment.  As  they  walked  forward, 
the  vast  interior  seemed  continually  to  retreat ; 
and  on  approaching  statues  which  represented 
cherubs,  and  at  first  had  seemed  no  larger  than  in- 
fants, they  found  them  to  be  of  gigantic  dimensions. 
Everything  seemed  to  increase  and  to  become  thus 
magnified ;  and  so  the  edifice  rose  constantly  all 
around  them  to  grander  proportions,  until  at  last 
they  stood  under  the  great  dome,  and  looked  up 
into  its  stupendous  vault.  There,  at  last,  their 
highest  expectation  WvS  realized,  and  the  full  idea 
of  St.  Peter's  came  over  them  —  St.  Peter's,  with 
all  its  grandeur,  glory,  and  immensity. 

"  Thou  movest,  but  increasing  with  the  advance, 
Like  climbing  6ome  great  Alp  that  still  doth  rise, 


ST.   PETER'S.  17 

Deceived  by  its  gigantic  elegance,  — 
Vastness  wliich  grows,  but  g^ows  to  harmonize, 
All  musical  in  its  immensities,  — 
Eich  marbles,  richer  paintings,  shrines  where  flame 
The  lamps  of  gold,  —  and  haughty  dome,  which  vies 
In  air  witli  earth's  chief  structures,  though  their  frame 
Kests  on  the  firm-sot  ground,  and  this  the  clouds  must  claim." 

At  length  they  had  gazed  their  fill^  and  had,  for 
the  present,  at  least,  become  satiated  with  the  mag- 
nificence below  ;  so  they  resolved  to  ascend  to  the 
dome,  and  penetrate  to  the  ball,  and  even  the  cross, 
if  possible.  Upon  inquiry  from  a  person  who  had 
an  English  look,  and  turned  out  to  be  an  English- 
man, or  rather  a  Scotchman,  they  found  the  door- 
way, \vhich  was  on  the  side  of  the  cathedral,  not 
far  from  the  entrance ;  and  through  this  they  all 
passed.  They  found  here,  to  their  surprise,  not 
steps,  as  they  had  expected,  but  an  inclined  plane,  ^ 
of  easy  grade,  paved  with  brick,  and  ascending 
spirally.  It  was  wide  enough  to  admit  of  several 
people  passing  abreast,  and  from  no  one  thing  did 
they  gain  so  lively  anci  impressive  an  idea  of  tho 
immensity  of  the  great  cathedral  as  from  this 
path  by  which  the  ascent  was  made  to  its  roof.  It 
filled  them  also  with  very  lively  expectations  of 
the  sights  above ;  for  what  must  be  the  wonders  of 
those  upper  regions,  which  were  approached  by 
sucli  a  mode  as  this? 

The  ascent  was  thus  gradual,  and  easy,  and  pleas- 
ant.    The  boys  were  all  in  the  highest  possible 
2 


18  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

Spirits.  The  various  mingled  sensations  of  awe, 
astonishment,  adaiiration,  reverence,  and  solemni- 
ty, which  had  recently  filled  them,  had  passed  away, 
and  a  reaction  had  set  in.  The  animal  spirits  of 
boyhood  became  manifest.  So  they  laughed,  and 
joked,  and  shouted,  and  played,  and  raced,  and 
chased  -one  another,  sometimes  up  and  sometimes 
down,  making  the  place  resound  with  their  up- 
roarious mirth.  But  suddenly  all  this  came  to  an 
end ;  for,  on  passing  round  one  of  the  turns  in  the 
spiral  way,  they  found  themselves  face  to  face  with 
half  a  dozen  donkeys. 
-  For  a  moment  they  were  all  completely  thunder- 
struck. They  would  have  expected  quite  as  readi- 
ly to  see  a  mail  coach  and  four  horses,  or  an  Ital- 
ial  diligence  with  six  horses,  in  this  place,  as  these 
animals.  The  thing  was  a  prodigy.  As  for  the 
donkeys,  they  also  were  startled  at  the  encounter, 
or,  perhaps,  at  something  in  the  manner  of  the 
boys ;  and  so  they,  too,  stood  still  and  waited. 

The  pause  was  at  length  ended  by  Bob. 

''  Hurrah,  boys  ! "  he  cried ;  "  let's  have  a  ride  up." 

And  before  the  others  could  offer  a  word  of  re- 
monstrance, or  say  anything  at  all,  he  was  on 
the  back  of  the  nearest  donkey.  The  patient  ani- 
mal did  not  start,  however,  or  exhibit  any  mani- 
festations of  surprise  or  displeasure.  He  stood 
quite  stijl,  and  the  others  did  the  same. 

'•'  Come  on,  boys,"  said  Bob,  cheerily.  "  What's 
the  use  of  walking  when  we  can  have  a  ride  up?  " 


DAVID'S   FALL.  19 

Frank  was  the  first  to  obey  this  invitation.  He 
sprang  forward,  seized  another  donkey,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  was  mounted  on  the  httle  animal's 
back.  CHve  then  clambered  on  another.  Last  of 
all,  David  tried  it ;  but  he  was,  unfortunately,  not 
so  nimble  as  the  others,  and,  as  he  put  his  leg  up, 
the  donkey  began  to  move  backward,  and  David 
slipped  off  and  rolled  under  his  feet.  Upon  this 
the  donkey  seemed  surprised,  as  well  he  might  bo, 
and  backed  still  farther.  Up  jumped  David,  and 
seized  him  again.  The  donkey  stood  still  for  a 
moment,  and'  David  once  more  commenced  the 
climbing  process.  The  donkey  started  back ; 
again  David  slipped  and  fell.  This  time,  however, 
he  recovered  himself  without  losing  his  hold  of  the 
donkey ;  and,  being  out  of  breath  from  his  long 
walk  up,  and  violent  play,  and  struggle  with  the 
donkey,  he  stood  still  for  a  few  moments,  panting 
and  staring  at  the  little  jackass,  while  the  little 
jackass  calmly  stared  at  him. 

"  Come,  Dave,  don't  be  all  day  about  it,"  said 
Frank.     "  Give  a  sudden  jump,  and  there  you  are." 

"  0,  wait  a  minute ;  I'll  be  all  right.  You  fel- 
lows go  on  ;  I'll  follow  at  once." 

"  But  we  don't  want  to  leave  you." 

"  0,  don't  mind  me  ;  I'll  be  along  at  once." 

"Here,  Dave,"  said  Clive,  who  was  nearest  to 
.  him  ;   "  take  my  hand." 

David  reached  over  to  take  the  outstretched 
hand  r^  Clive,  when  suddenly  the  donkey,  startled 


20  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

at  tlic  gesture,  drew  back  rather  abruptly.  David 
slid  aside,  and  at  ibis  the  patient  animal  seemed  to 
lose  all  further  power  of  self-control.  With  an 
indignant  toss  of  his  head  he  kickeci  up  his  heels, 
and  down  went  David  again  on  the  bricks.  But 
this  alarmed  the  donkey  still  more,  and  he  seemed 
frightened  out  of  what  wits  ho  had.  With  a  jump 
he  started  off  up  the  incline.  Away  he  went,  with 
his  tail  in  the  air.  Away,  too,  went  the  other  don- 
keys, with  their  tails  also  in  the  air,  as  fast  as  they 
could,  considering  the  loads  on  their  backs  and  the 
up-hill  work  that  was  before  thera.  And  there  was 
that  unfortunate  David  left  behind,  lying-  on  his 
back,  alone  in  this  solitary  place.  What  could  ho 
do  ?  He  did  what  he  could.  He  picked  himself 
np,  and  brushed  the  dust  from  his  clothes.  Then 
he  shook  himself  Then  he  listened  very  atten- 
tively, and  heard  the  sound  of  retreating  footfalls 
dying  away  far  np  the  incline. 

He  started  off  at  once  to  finish  the  journey  on  foot. 
He  felt  rather  sore,  and  also  very  much  vexed.  In 
the  midst  of  all  this  he  also  felt  a  little  anxiety 
about  the  boys  who  had  thus  been  carried  away  so 
suddenly,  so  strangely,  and  in  this  utterly  un- 
known place.  Those  donkeys  seemed  now  like  a 
dream.  They  seemed,  like  fabulous  animals,  to  have 
dropped  down  from  the  skies  for  the  purpose  of 
luring  his  friends  to  destruction.  Whither  were 
they  beiug  carried  ?  Co  aid  they  stop  the  runaway 
animals  ?    Was  it  not  in  the  highest  degree  danger- 


ROOF   OF   ST.   PETER'S.  21 

ons  to  be  run  away  with  on  donkey-back  on  the 
roof  of  a  cathedral  ?  What  was  the  roof  like  ? 
Was  it  a  steep  slope,  or  was  it  only  a  gradual  in- 
cline ?  He  iiad  a  vague  idea  that  it  was  an  arch 
corresponding  with  the  vault  of  the  interior.  Ilis 
only  hope  was  that,  on  reaching  the  top,  the  don- 
keys would  not  be  able  to  go  any  liirther.  But  if 
they  should  be  carried  farther  by  their  excitement, 
and  run  up  the  roof,  what  thei^  That  he  could 
not  answer  ;  and  out  of  all  these  terrible  questions 
there  grew  before  the  mind  of  David  the  dark 
prospect  of  some  terrible  calamity. 

At  l;ist,  after  a  long  tramp,  which  seemed  longer 
still  from  his  anxiety  of  mind,  and  several  bruises 
about  his  body,  the  result  of  his  struggle  with  the 
donkey,  David  reached  the  roof  of  St.  Peter's,  and 
looked  around. 

His  first  emotion  was  one  of  amazement  —  so 
great  that  all  his  anxiety  and  all  his  pain  were  quit-e 
forgotten. 

The  roof  of  St.  Peter's  I 

He  had  seen  plenty  of  roofs  before,  and  he  had 
been  on  a  few.  His  idea  of  the  roof  of  St.  Peter's 
was  something  like  those  which  had  come  within 
t  .the  limit  of  his  owii  experience.  It  must  slope, 
he  thought,  in  some  way.  He  tiiought  that  it 
might  be  pitched,  but  that  most  probably  it  was 
arched  to  correspond  with  the  vault  of  the  inte- 
nor.  The  idea  was  only  a  general  one,  and  his 
mind  did  not  rest  on  any  details.     His  chief  anxie- 


22  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

ty  about  the  boys  arose  from  a  fear  that  the  don- 
keys might  get  upon  the  slope,  slide  over  it,  and  be 
precipitated,  together  with  their  riders,  upon  the 
pavement  far  below. 

With  this  in  his  mind  he  had  reached  the   sum- 
mit:   and  what  was  it  that  he  saw? 
•    He  didn't  see  any  roof  at  all.  «£.w  ..i  ->.. 

On  the  contra^,  he  saw  what  seemed  to  him  — 
a  village.  .  W 

It  was  a  strange  and  an  unequalled  sight.  The 
village  —  if  that  name  may  be  used  —  was  a  mix- 
ture of  grandeur  and  humility,  wherein  the  lowliest 
cottages  nestled  under  the  shadow  of  the  mightiest 
structures  that  the  genius  of  man  had  ever  con- 
ceived, and  the  hand  of  man  had  ever  reared. 
What  may  be  called  the  "  streets  "  of  this  "  village  " 
were  paved  with  smooth  stones  of  enormous  size. 
Donkeys  were  wandering  about. 

So  great  was  his  amazement  that  for  a  moment 
he  forgot  all  about  his  friends,  and  he  recalled  in- 
voluntarily the  immortal  legend  of  Jack  and  the 
Bean-stalk;  for  Jack  had  climbed,"  and  climbed,  and 
climbed,  and  finally,  on  reaching  the  top  of  the 
said  immortaHbean-stalk,  he  had  found  himself  in  a 
new  world.  So  David.  Had  not  he  been  climb- 
ing, and  climbing,  and  still  climbing?  and  was  not 
this  a  new  world  that  he  had  reached  ?  It  was  a 
new  world,  —  this  world  with  its  grandeur  and 
stately  magnificence ;  this  world  with  its  lofty 
domes  towering  far  on  high;  this  world  with  its 


THE  VILLAGE  IN  THE  AIR.  23 

population  of  giant  statues  rising  before  liim  wher- 
ever he  turned  his  eyes. 

At  length  his  thoughts  reverted  to  the  hoys. 
They  were  safe,  at  any  rate.  His  fears  had  been 
unfounded.  There  was  no  possibility  of  their  roll- 
ing, or  shding,  or  tumbling  off,  or  of  going  off  any- 
where in  any  conceivable  way.  This  was  a  place 
where  they  might  ride  donkey-back  for  a  lifetime 
without  the  possibility  of  dangar.  So  ho  started 
forward  with  the  intention  of  exploring  still  further 
the  wonders  of  this  strange  upper  world. 


.1 


24:  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 


CHAPTER    II. 

A  singular  Promenade.  —  Wonderful  Scenes.  —  Bewilder- 
incnt  of  David.  — A  sudden  Interruption  of  his  Medita- 
tions.—  Runaway  Donkeys  on  the  Roof  of  a  Church. — 
The  Pursuit.  —  The  cast-iron  Gendarme.  —  The  Boys 
under  Arrest.  —  Despair  of  David.  —  Flippancy  of  Bob. 

,  —  What  shall  we  do.  —  Tremendous  Oration  of  two 
Priests. — Puzzle  of  the  Auditors  to  whom  it  was  ad- 
dressed. 

AVID  walked  forward  with  observant  eyes, 
and  those  observant  eyes  were  rubbed 
over  and  over  again  in  perplexity  and 
wonder,  before  he  could  brinr;^  himself  to  believe 
that  their  ^/idence  was  worthy  of  trust.  For 
what  he  saw  before  him  seemed  to  be  actually  a 
row  of  cottages,  or  sometliing  so  mucl  like  it  that 
there  was  no  joke  about  it.  Opposite  to  this  row 
he  saw  a  colonnade,  above  which  colossal  t^latues 
rose  majestically  in  the  air.  Most  of  the  cottage 
doors  were  open.  In  some  he  saw  women  spin- 
ning; children  played  about  the  doors;  babies 
were  sleeping  in  their  mothers'  amis ;  dogs  were 
lolling  in  the  shade,  and  looking  lazily  an4  sleep- 
ily at  him  as  he  passed,  as  is  the  fashion  with 


A   SINGULAR   PROMENADE.  25 

Italian  tlog.^,  and  with  our  own  dogs  too,  in  fact  — 
at  least  in  tho  dog  days.  Near  him  wero  two 
donkeys  with  panniers,  which  wero  tied  to  a 
pillar. 

He  walked  slowly  along,  and  saw  next  several 
temples,  with  arched  roofs,  which  presented  great 
beauty  of  appearance,  behind  which  was  visible  tho 
colonnade,  with  its  statues. 

Several  men  came  out  of  a  house  near  by, 
and,  after  looking  at  him  hastily,  yet  searchingly, 
they  walked  off,  at  a  rapid  pace,  in  an  opposite 
direction. 

Three  priests  came  out  of  another  house,  and 
walked  ofl'  after  tho  men  aforesaid. 

Then  came  an  old  man,  with  a  big  basket. 
And  then, — 

Several  dogs. 

A  dozen  children  at  play. 

A  number  cf  goats. 

More  donkeys. 

A  flock  of  pigeons. 

Some  hens. 

A  man  with  a  wheelbarrow. 

A  French  officer. 

Some  ladies  and  gentlemen. 

Several  priests. 

More  goats. 

More  donkeys. 

More  ladies  and  gentlemen, 

A  donkey  with  a  load. 


26  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

A  peasant  driving  him. 

A  small  boy. 

A  cat. 

A  little  dog  chasing. 

Anotliordog  assisting. 
All  these  passed,  and  David  began  to  liiink  that 
the  immortal  Bean-stalk  of  lairy  lore  was  nothing 
when  compared  to  the  ascending  incline  of  St. 
Peter's.  What  had  Jack  seen,  in  his  never-to-be- 
forgotten  wanderings,  that  could  compare  with 
this  ? 

For  there,  full  before  him,  arose  a  spectacle 
which  cannot  be  equalled  anywhere  else  on  earth. 
He  had  come  to  the  middle  of  this  village  in  the 
air,  —  to  what  may  be  called  the  grand  square. 
Here  there  arose  three  mighty  edifices.  One  was 
close  by  him,  on  his  left.  It  was  surmounted  by  a 
dome,  and  looked  like  a  temple,  or  some  sanctuary 
for  worship.  Some  distance  away  arose  another, 
the  third  of  these  three  great  edifices,  which  was 
the  counterpart  of  the  first.  Both  of  these  were, 
individually, ,  of  noble  and  stately  appearance ;  yet 
they  were  dwarfed,  eclipsed,  and  thrown  altogether 
out  of  the  sphere  of  examination  by  a  giant  struc- 
ture that  stood  between  them,  and,  towering  far  on 
high,  dominated  over  all  surrounding  things. 

Its  proportions  were  vast.  David  stood  and 
looked  at  it.  He  had  seen  many  large  buildings, 
and  he  tried  to  compare  this  with  some  among 
thei",  but  found  none  that  could  fairly  be  put  in 


WONDERFUL  SCENES.  27 

comparison.  As  to  dimensions,  this  edifice  seemed 
to  cover  as  much  ground  as  the  largest  building 
which  he  had  seen  in  America.  It  was  a  giant 
rotunda,  crowned  with  a  dome.  Looking  up,  he  saw 
that  if  Bunker  Hill  Monument  were  placed  by  its 
side  on  this  spot,  it  would  fail  to  reach  to  the  top. 
He  thought  that  if  Trinity  Church,  Now  York,  were 
placed  here,  it  would  not  cover  the  surface  that 
was  enclosed  by  these  circular  walls,  and  could  not 
recall  any  church  in  America,  which  ho  had  seen, 
over  which  this  might  not  be  placed  like  an  ex- 
tinguisher. 

There  it  rose  —  the  giant  creatic-n  of  the  giant 
spirit  of  Michael  Angelo  —  the  "  vast  and  wondrous 
dome  "  of  St.  Peter's,  a  wonder  alike  of  artistic 
conception  and  of  mechanical  engineering.  Nor 
was  it  possible  for  David,  in  his  admiration  of  ita 
gigantic  size,  to  lose  sight  of  its  majesty  of  ex- 
pression, its  harmony  of  proportion,  its  exquisite 
symmetry,  and  the  beauty  of  all  its  details ;  for 
all  these  things  were  keenly  noted  and  fully  ap- 
preciated by  him,  as  he  gazed  at  the  stupendous 
work. 

But  all  around  him  was  a  wonder-world,  and  so 
he  went  on  to  see  what  else  might  be  before  him. 
lie  walked  on  over  the  way  which  ho  had  been 
going,  and  at  length  reached  the  end.  Here  a 
colonnade  ran  along.  A  fountain  played  not  far 
away,  throwing  out  waters  that  sparkled  and  glit- 
tered in  the  sun,  and  this  fountain  seemed  to  him 


28  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

not  tlio  least  extraordinary  among  all  that  ho  had 
thus  far  observed  in  this  place. 

Hero  he  stood  and  looked  forth. 

It  was  a  magnificent  prospect  that  met  his  eyes. 
Far  beneath  lay  tho  city.  Immediately  under  him 
was  the  Vatican  Hill,  and  on  one  side  was  the  im- 
menso  extent  of  the  Vatican  Palace,  where  quad- 
rangle lay  joined  to  quadrangle,  square  to  square, 
gallery  to  gallery,  in  an  apparently  interminiible 
series.  On  another  side  was  a  mass  of  squalid-look- 
ing houses,  dingy  and  black,  enclosed  by  the  walls 
of  the  city.  Beyond  this  lay  tho  waste  and  desolate 
Campagna,  with  its  lonely  monuments  o^'  a  hoar  an- 
tiquity, and  endless  lines  of  lofty  arches  supporting 
the  ancient  aqueducts.  Among  all  these  David 
regarded  the  city  walls  with  the  deepest  interest. 
Were  these,  he  wondered,  part  of  the  original 
walls,  repaired  by  Aurelian,  by  Belisarius,  by  Leo 
IV.,  and  by  others  in  later  ages  ?  or  were  they  the 
walls  reared  by  Leo  IV.,  as  a  bulwark  against  the 
roving  Saracens,  when  he  enclosed  the  suburb 
beyond  the  Tiber,  and  formed  the  "  Leonine  city"  ? 
But-  suddenly  all  these  questions,  thoughts,  feel- 
ings, emotions,  sentiments,  and  conjectures  were 
rudely  interrupted  and  knocked  abruptly  out  of 
bis  astonished  head. 

There  arose  behind  him  a  tremendous  clatter, 
accompanied  with  a  wild  outcry  of  voices  familiar 
to  his  ears.     He  turned  with  a  start. 

An  astounding  sight  met  his  eyes. 


•  BEWILDERMENT   OF   DAVID.  29 

In  ordor  to  fully  appreciate  David's  situation  and 
sensation,  wo  must  remember  the  state  of  mind  in 
wliich  this  new  occurrence  found  him.  For,  during 
);is  excitement  at  his  novel  position  and  extraordi- 
nary surroundinj;-s,  he  had  forgotten  about  the  boys. 
Ti»e  wonders,  the  contrasts  of  splendor  and  mean- 
ness, of  grandeur  and  lowhness,  and  ♦he  diversilied 
scenes  tljat  opened  up  in  every  direction,  had  given 
full  occupation  to  his  mind,  ^jsides,  his  stroll 
from  the  top  of  the  inclined  plane  to  the  colonnade 
at  the  end  of  the  roof  had  only  taken  up  five  or  six 
minutes.  lie  had  scarcely  stopped  at  any  one 
point  more  than  a  few  seconds.  At  this  moment, 
then,  the  distraction  of  his  thoughts  consequent 
upon  the  scenes  about  him  had  scarcely  lessened, 
when,  in  an  instant,  that  distraction  was  dispelled, 
and  he  was  roused  to  himself  and  to  a  sense  of  the 
existence  of  his  friends. 

It  was  certainly  a  wonderful  sight,  and  to  him 
one  wiiicli  was  unparalleled  in  its  suddeness  and  in^ 
its  harrowing  effects. 

For  this  is  what  he  saw:  — 

First,  Frank,  riding  on  a  donkey,  kicking,  pound- 
ing, shouting,  holding  on  to  the  animal's  ear  with 
one  hand,  and  with  the  other  dealing  heavy  blows 
with  his  fist. 

Second,  Clive,  holding  on  to  both  ears  of  his 
donkey  with  both  hands,  and  kicking  furiously  with 
his  heels. 

Third,  Bob,  who,  not  having  any  whip,  or  any 


30  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

spur,  had  taken  olF  his  hat,  and  was  whacking  the 
donkey  about  the  face  —  efforts  which,  instead  of 
making  the  beast  go  faster,  only  seemed  to  confuse 
him  and  retard  his  pace. 

Fourth,  a  papal  gendarme. 

Fifth,  two  priests. 

Sixth,  five  peasants. 

Seventh,  a  French  soldier. 

Eighth,  a  peasant. 

Ninth,  a  woman. 

Tenth,  another  French  soldier. 

Eleventh,  twelve  small  boys. 

Twelfth,  a  goat. 

Thirteenth,  an  old  man. 

Fourteenth,  a  dog. 

Fifteenth,  another  dog. 

Sixteenth,  another  dog. 

Seventeenth,  another  dog. 

Eighteenth,  a  peasant. 

Nineteenth,  a  ismall  boy. 

Twentieth,  his  mother. 
And  all  this  varied  crowd  was  in  hot  pursuit  of 
Frank,  Clive,  and  Bob  —  the  entire  population  per- 
haps of  this  village  in  the  air.  Away  they  went. 
Away  went  the  three  boys.  Away  went  the  pur- 
sueri?.  They  dashed  past  David  pell-mell,  and  just 
as  they  passed  him,  the  papal  gendarme  seized 
Bob's  donkey  by  the  tail.  Bob  beat  and  kicked 
the  donkey  more  furiously  than  ever.  The  animal 
lost  the  patience  which  ordinarily  characterizes  the 


A  STARTLING  SIGHT.  31 

race  to  which  he  belongs,  and  set  off  on  a  faster 
race,  dragging  his  captor  after  liim  ;  and  thus,  and 
there,  and  then,  with  wild  shouts,  both  from  pur- 
suers and  pursued,  the  whole  party  swept  past,  and, 
disappearing  around  a  corner,  moved  away,  pell- 
mell,  to  the  other  end  of  the  roof. 

For  a  few  momenta  David  stood  as  though  rooted 
to  the  spot,  fairly  paralyzed  by  amazement  and 
horror. 

Then  he  rushed  off  in  pursuit. 
He    followed   along   the    way   which   they   had 
taken,  and  for  the  whole  length  of  the  roof  saw 
nothing  of  them.     At  length  he  reaohed  the  front 
of  the  edifice,  and  turned  a  corner. 
Here  a  startling  sight  met  his  eyes. 
The  boys  had  dismounted. 
The  papal  gendarme  had  Frank  in  his  grasp  1 
One  priest  had  possession  of  Clive  1 
Another  priest  had  possession  of  Rob  1 
Peasant  Number  1  had  Frank's  donkey  1 
Peasart  Number  2  had  Clive's  donkey  I 
Peasant  Number  3  had  Bob's  donkey  I 
And  around  them  there  was  a  crowd,  consisting 
of  the  remaining  peasants,  the  men,  the  women,  the 
goat,  the  dogs,  and  the  small  boy. 

All  were  talking  —  that  is,  of  course,  all  except 
the  lower  animals  —  and  gesticulating  most  vehe- 
mently, as  is  the  Italian  fashion.  But  David,  of 
course,  could  not  understand  a  word  that  they 
said.    The  scene,  however,  was  an  eloquent  one ; 


32  TLiD  SEVEN  HILLS. 

it  told  its  own  meaning,  which  meaning  David 
could  understand  onl}'-  too  easily,  and  the  thought 
gave  a  pang  to  his  heart. 

The  hoys  luere  under  arrest  I 

For  a  few  moments  David  stood  utterly  aghast. 
Then  he  hurried  up.  The  two  priests  were  talking 
at  the  boys  in  vehement  tones  ;  but  as  they  spoke  in 
Italian,  their  words  were  of  course  unini-^lligible. 
Frank  was  doing  his  best,  by  means  of  gestures,  to 
convey  some  idc:  to  them;  but  they  either  did  not 
notice  his  gestures,  or  else  could  not  comprehend 
them.  Clive  and  Bob  looked  on  with  rather  blank 
faces,  wishing  that  they  could  speak  Italian,  and 
vowing  from  henceforth  to  make  the  acquisition  of 
this  language  the  chief  purpose  of  their  lives. 

Now,  though  the  boys  did  not  understand  what 
the  priests  said,  that  is  no  reason  why  the  boy  who 
reads  those  wonderful  adventures  should  not  know 
it ;  and  therefore  I  proceed  to  give  a  translation  of 
the  same. 

This,  then,  is  what  one  of  the  priests  said,  and 
what  the  other  said  was  like  it :  — 

"  O,  sacrilegious  ones  !  Who  are  ye  who  thus 
come  to  desecrate  tliis  sanctuary  by  racing  on 
donkeys  over  the  roof  that  covers  the  hallowed 
dust  of  the  Prince  of  the  Apostles?  Do  ye  not  well 
know  that  ye  thereby  doom  yourselves  to  the  male- 
dictions of  all  the  faithful,  the  anathema  of  the 
church,  and  the  terrors  of  the  civil  arm?  0,  the 
shamclessness  of  the  age,  when  tender  boys  like 


* 


THE  priekt's  oration.  33 

these  are  brought  up  thus  to  be  familiar  with  sac- 
rilege, impiety,  and  wanton  desecration  of  holy 
places  !  Was  it  not  enough  that  ye  dared  to  ap- 
propriate the  ecclesiastical  donkeys,  but  must  ye 
add  fresh  horrors  to  your  shameless  and  almost 
nameless  offence  by  mounting  them?  Must  ya 
even  go  farther  than  this,  and  dare  to  run  a  race 
around  the  holy  dome  ?  And  now  what  words  can 
express  your  guilt,  or  what  punishment  can  be  too 
heavy?  Protestants,  and  heretics,  and  infidels  ye 
must  be ;  English,  too,  no  doubt,  all  of  ye.  For  ye 
English,  wherever  ye  go,  heap  scorn,  contumely, 
and  insult  upon  Christians  ;  and  ye  —  spawn  of  in- 
iquity that  ye  are  1 — out-English  them  all.  Never 
imagine  that  ye  will  escape  without  giving  com- 
pensation !  But  what  compensation,  what  atone- 
ment, is  possible  ?  or  what  penalty  can  be  imagined 
that  shall  be  commensurate  with  so  dire  an  offence  ? 
Oj  opprobrious  ones  !  be  thankful  that  the  laws  are 
more  merciful  now  than  in  former  ages,  and  that 
even  sacrilege  does  not  receive  so  heavy  a  punish- 
ment as  of  old." 

All  this  the  priests  spoke  in  sonorous  Italian, 
rolling  out  tL3  words  in  full,  round  orotund  tones, 
and  looking  at  their  prisoners  with  dark  eyes  of 
gloom.  Not  one  word  of  this  was  understood,  but 
the  general  meaning  was  suggested  by  the  tone, 
expression,  and  gestures  of  the  storming  orator. 
The  priests  were  both  short  men,  stout,  fat,  middle- 
aged,  in  long  black  gowns  and  broad-brimmed  hats. 


34  THE   SEVEN    HILLS. 

Meanwhile  David's  feelings  had  been  swelling 
within  his  breast  into  a  fever  of  anxiety.  While 
the  harangue  was  going  on,  he  could  perceive  its 
meaning  to  be  a  general  denunciation  of  the  boys, 
and  furious  threats  of  some  mysterious  vengeance. 
Wluit  could  be  done  ?  Nothing  !  And  what,  he  won- 
dered, would  be  the  character  of  the  vengeance  ? 
As  ho  asked  himself  this  question,  all  his  soul 
shrank  away  within  him.  All  the  recollection  of 
his  youthful  Sunday  school  reading  came  back  be- 
fore him  with  extraordinary  vividness.  He  recalled 
the  history  of  the  crusade  against  the  Albigenses. 
He  brought  up  before  his  mind's  eye  the  memorable 
events  and  impressive  pictures,  with  which  he  had 
become  familiar  long  ago,  in  Foxe's  Book  of  Mar- 
tyrs, and  other  works  of  a  similar  kind.  One  scene, 
in  particular,  w^as  recalled.  It  was  where  an  Eng- 
lishman was  burned  for  not  taking  off  his  hat  at  the 
sight  of  the  procession  of  the  host.  Finally,  his 
thoughts  gathered  around  the  pleasing  subject 
of  the  Auto  da  Fe  and  the  Inquisition.  He  had 
understood  that  the  Inquisition  still  existed  in 
Kome,  —  perhaps,  he  thought,  they  still  used  their 
dungeons, —  perhaps  these  very  men  were  In- 
quisitors !  And  what  then  ?  0,  if  he  could  only 
^peak  Italian  !  0,  if  he  could  only  find  an  English- 
man, or  an  American  !  0,  if  he  could  only  get  word 
to  Uncle  Moses !  Such  were  the  anxious  thoughts 
and  fears  that  distracted  the  soul  of  David. 

After  a  time  the  priests  seemed  to  grow  weary 


A   COLLOQUY.  35 

of  their  denunciations ;  or  perhaps  they  saw  the 
uselessness  of  talking  to  those  who  could  not  under- 
stand a  word  they  said.  So  they  motioned  to  three 
of  the  other  peasants  to  guard  the  boys.  This  the 
latter  did,  by  grasping  them  by  their  coat  collars. 
The  two  priests  and  the  gendarme  then  walked 
apart,  and  conversed  for  some  time  with  great 
earnestness  and  gravity.  The  gendarme  was  a 
stiff-looking  personage,  who  looked  as  though  he 
was  clothed  in  sheet-iron. 

David  now  walked  up  to  his  friends,  and  asked 
them  how  it  all  had  happened. 

"  Why,"  said  Frank,  "  it  wasn't  our  fault,  I'm 
sure." 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  The  miserable  donkeys  ran 
away.     That's  all." 

"  What  made  them  ?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

"  You  beat  them,  I  suppose." 

''  No,  I  didn't.     Did  I,  Clive  ?    Did  I,  Bob  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Clive;  "he  didn't,  and  I  didn't, 
either." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Bob.  "  In  fact,  it's  against  my 
principles  to  beai.  a  donkey.  Don't  you  remember 
how  often  I've  sung  to  you  that  little  hymn  of 
Dr.  Watts  ?  — 

•  0,  if  I  had  a  donkey, 
And  he  wouldn't  go, 
Do  you  think  I'd  wallop  him? 
No  —  no  —  no.'  " 


36  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

"  Bob,"  said  David,  reproachfully,  "  is  this  a  time 
for  nonsense  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Bob.  "  There  seems 
to  be  a  good  deal  of  nonsense  going  on  around  us. 
But  see  here,  Dave;  you're  not  a  prisoner.  Can't 
you  go  off  after  Uncle  Moses  ?  " 

David  shook  his  head,  mournfully. 

"  By  the  time  I  got  back  here  with  him,"  said 
he,  "  you'd  all  be  taken  away  ;  and  then  what  good 
could  he  do?     He  can't  speak  Italian." 

"  I  know ;  but  then  I  thought  that  his  venerable 
appearance  might  somehow  strike  terror  into  these 
Italians.     However,  it's  just  as  well." 

"  Just  as  well  ?  "  said  David.  "  No ;  something 
must  be  done.  0,  how  I  wish  I  could  find  some 
one  who  could  explain  things  ! " 

"  What's  the  use  ?  " 

"  Why,  you'll  be  taken  to  prison." 

"Well,  and  wouldn't  that  be  jolly?"  said  Bob, 
cheerily.  "  I'd  like  to  know  how  many  fellows  of 
our  age  have  seen  the  inside  of  a  Roman  prison." 

David  groaned,  and  was  silent. 


ANOTHER  ORATION.  37 


.     CHAPTER  III. 

Another  tremendous  Oration  of  the  Priest,  followed  by  an 
Oration  still  more  tretnendous  fro7n  Bob.  —  The  Priests 
bewildered. —  Happy  Thought  of  David.  —  Flight.  —  Pur- 
suit. —  A  headlong  Descent.  —  The  German.  — The  Dutch- 
man. —  The  Spaniard.  —  TJie  Englishman.  —  The  Irish- 
man. —  Tiie  Yankee.  —  Where'' s  David?  —  Debates.  — 
Conjectures.  —  Final  Resolve.  —  They  once  ?nore  make  the 
Ascent. 

T  length  the  priests  ended  their  conversa- 
tion, and  once  more  came  up  to  the  boys. 
One  of  them  now  made  an  harangue,  as  be- 
fore. Its  general  tone  and  manner  were  severe, 
but  less  passionate  than  the  first. 

This  is  what  he  said,  done,  as  before,  into  Eng- 
lish. 

•'English  young  gentlemen,  whoever  you  are, 
you  have  committed  what,  in  our  eye,  is  a  very 
serious  offence  and  crime,  namely,  sacrilege,  by 
racing  donkeys  round  and  round  over  the  roof  of 
this  holy  Basilica  of  St.  Peter's.  You  must  not 
expect  that  you  will  get  off  without  punishment. 
Yet  you  are  young,  and  we  are  willin;?;'  to  believe 
that  you  did  not  really  intend  to  commit  so  enor- 


38  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

mous  an  offence.  Wo  cannot,  in  fact,  bring  our- 
Bclves  to  bolieve  that  young  gentlemen  of  your 
appearance,  and  your  evident  station  in  life,  would 
deliberately  and  intentionally  perpetrate  a  deed  so 
foul,  so  atrocious,  and  so  blasphemous.  You  have 
probably  your  parents  or  guardians  somewhere 
near,  or  at  least  not  far  off  in  the  city.  We  will  be 
merciful.  We  will  allow  you  to  send  your  friend 
to  take  word  to  your  parents  or  guardians,  and 
when  they  come  here  we  will  see  what  may  be 
done.  But,  of  course,  for  the  present  you  must  bo 
retained  in  confinement.  One  of  you,  therefore, 
may  go,  and  he  must  come  back  aa  soon  as  pos- 
sible." 

The  boys  listened  in  silence,  but  of  course  did 
not  understand  a  word ;  a  fact  which  it  was  strange 
that  the  priests  had  not  thought  of.  The  priest, 
having  ceased,  looked  inquiringly  at  chem,  expect- 
ing some  sort  of  an  answer. 

•  Bob  looked  very  gravely  at  his  friends,  and  then 
said,  in  a  quiet,  thoughtful  tone, — 

"  True  ;  yes ;  in  fact,  I  always  thought  so ;  and 
what  be  says  is  quite  unanswerable.  Yet  it  seems 
to  me  that  we  ought  to  make  him  some  reply,  for 
the  '  honor  of  the  flag,'  you  know,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing ;  because,  it  should  never  be  said  of  any 
American  that  when  the  time  came  for  him  to  make 
a  speech  he  was  basely  mum."  ^ 

Then  turning  to  the  priests.  Bob  took  off  his 
hat,  and  made  a  respectful  bow. 


bob's  speech.  89 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  ho,  "  unaccustomed 
as  I  am  to  public  speaking,  you'd  scarce  expect 
one  of  my  age  to  speak  in  public  on  a  stage  like 
this,  and  if  I  chance  to  fall  below  Demostliencs  or 
Cicero,  —  which  I  may  add  is  highly  probable, — 
don't  view  me  with  a  cricket's  eye,  but  be  good 
enough  to  pass  my  few  imperfections  by.  And 
though  I  am  but  small  and  young,  of  judgment 
weak,  and  feeble  tongue,  yet,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, I,  in  company  with  my  esteemed  young  friends 
here,  am  a  native  of  the  land  of  the  free  and  the 
Iiome  of  the  brave.  You,  my  lords,  have  honored 
us  with  an  address  which  is  full  of  perspicuity, 
purity,  prosperity,  arid  precision.  I  feel  that  I 
cannot  do  justice  to  the  elegance  of  diction  which 
characterized  your  remarkable  address.  I  cannot, 
my  lords,  I  will  not,  join  in  congratulation  in  mis- 
fortune and  disgrace.  It  is  not  a  time  for  adula- 
tion ;  the  smoothness  of  flattery  cannot  avail  us  in 
this  rugged  and  awful  crisis.  It  is  now  time  to  ad- 
dress the  throne  in  the  language  of  truth,  and  dis- 
play in  glowing  colors  the  ruin  that  is  brought  to 
our  doors.  No  man  more  highly  esteems  and  honors 
the  British  troops  than  I  do.  I  know  their  virtues 
and  their  valor  ;  I  know  that  they  can  accomplish 
anything  but  impossibilities,  and  I  know  that  the 
conquest  of  British  America  is  an  impossibility. 
My  only  answer  to  the  oppressor  and  the  tyrant 
is,  that  our  bright  home  is  in  the  setting  sun.  If 
I  were  an  Italian,  as  I  am  an  American,  while  a 


40  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

foreign  party  was  trying  to  come  it  over  me  with 
hia  lingo,  I  would  never  give  up  the  ship,  never, 
never,  never !  " 

Wliile  this  astonishing  address  was  being  deliv- 
ered, the  boys  at  first  stood  utterly  confounded  ;  and 
then,  as  Bob  calmly  went  on,  laying  an  exaggerated 
emphasis  on  those  scraps  of  old  hackneyed  school 
declamations  which  he  so  absurdly  confounded  to- 
gether, even  the  gravity  of  their  situation  could 
not  quell  the  impulse  to  laughter.  Their  faces 
grew  distorted  with  the  effort  lo  ke^p  down  their 
mirth,  and  they  bit  their  lips  till  the  blood  came. 

The  priests  looked  on  in  utter  amazement.  It 
was  their  turn  now  to  be  bewildered  at  the  sound 
of  an  unintelligible  speech.  They  listened  intently, 
however,  as  though  by  listening  to  gain  some  idea; 
and,  finally,  as  Bob  ceased,  and  with  a  low  bow 
replaced  his  hat  on  his  head,  they  looked  at  one 
another  with  puzzled  faces.  Then  one  of  them 
beckoned  the  other,  and  they  once  more  went 
apart,  followed  by  the  gendarme,  and  engaged  in 
another  long  conversation. 

"  Boys,"  said  David,  hurriedly,  "  I've  got  a  plan 
for  you." 

"  Trot  it  out,  then,"  said  Frank. 

"  Have  you  got  your  purses  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Frank. 

"  I've  got  loose  change,"  said  Clive. 

"I've  a  few  dollars,"  said  Bob. 

"  Well,   each   of  you   hand  some   silver  to  the 


If 


FLIGHT   OF  THE  BOYS.  41 

fellow  that's  holding  you.  They'll  all  understand 
that.  They'll  let  you  go.  Tlien  lot's  all  run  for  it. 
Be  quick,  so  as  to  get  off  while  the  priests  are 
talking." 

This  pn^posal  came  like  a  ray  of  light  into  the 
dungeon  of  their  captivity.  In  a  few  moments 
each  of  them  had  slyly  shown  a  handful  of  silver 
coin  to  his  jailer,  and  exchanged  with  him  a 
glance  of  intelligence.  That  display  of  silver  coin 
acted  like  a  charm.  The  rigid  grasps  relaxed,  and 
the  horny  fists  of  the  three  peasants  closed  like 
three  vices  around  the  money. 

In  another  instant  the  boys  were  off.  Tlie  three 
peasants,  who  had  pocketed  the  silver,  did  not  make 
any  very  great  haste  to  pursue  them,  though  they 
pretended  to  be  very  much  excited  and  confused. 
But  among  the  others  a  great  riot  arose.  The 
women  gave  a  loud  outcry,  and  all  the  small  boys 
gave  chase.  The  priests  and  the  gendarme  looked 
around,  uttered  exclamations  of  wrath,  and  followed 
as  fast  as  they  could.  The  peasants,  who  had  the 
money,  made  a  great  show  of  following.  The  two 
French  soldiers,  who  had  viewed  the  whole  scene 
with  great  composure,  now  stood  laughing  at  the 
new  turn  which  affairs  had  taken ;  so  that  the 
only  actual  pursuers  of  the  fugitives  were, — 

1st.   Thirteen  small  boys. 

2d.    Tlie  mother  of  boy  No.  13. 

3d.    Two  small  dogs. 

4th.   One  priest. 


42  THE  SEVEN  HILL8. 

5th.   Another  priest. 

6th.    A  gendarme. 

7th.  The  three  peasants  who  had  pocketed  the 
money,  and  did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  in  a  hurry. 

Now,  it  has  already  been  said  that  both  of  the 
priests  were  short,  and  stout,  and  fat;  so,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  their  progress  was  not  remarkable  for 
speed.  As  for  the  gendarme,  when  he  attempted 
to  run,  the  idea  of  sheot  iron  clothing  seemed  to 
be  more  applicable  to  him  than  ever.  And  so,  on 
the  whole,  the  boys  had  a  very  good  chance. 
So  away  they  went.  They  gained  on  their 
pursuers.  They  reached  the  place  of  descent. 
Down  they  dashed. 

But  alas  for  human  hopes  I  Just  as  David,  who 
happened  to  bo  last,  was  entering,  his  foot  struck 
against  a  projecting  stone.  He  fell  violently,  and 
lay  spiawling.  Before  he  could  pick  himself  up, 
seven  out  of  the  thirteen  small  boys  were  around 
him ;  and  before  he  could  knock  them  all  down  or 
burst  away  from  them,  his  coat  collar  was  grabbed 
by  priest  Number  One. 

Meanwhile  the  runaways  plunged  into  the  in- 
cline, and  down  they  went ;  and  down,  and  down, 
and  down  the  long  winding  way.  Frank,  who 
was  first,  heard  the  footsteps  of  those  who  were 
behind  him,  exaggerated  and  prolonged  by  the 
echoes,  and  thought,  naturally  enough,  that  it  was 
the  footsteps  of  pursuers  that  made  so  great  a 
sound.     The  other   boys   followed   Frank,  simply 


EXCLAMATIONS.  43 

because  ho  was  loading.  Thoy  all  thought  that 
David  was  with  them.  Bob,  who  was  last,  thought 
that  David  was  ahead  of  him ;  and  Frank,  who  was 
first,  thought  that  ho  was  behind  him. 

And  so  down  thoy  went,  at  a  pace  that  was 
simply  tremendous.  Suddenly,  in  making  one  of 
their  never-ending  turns,  they  ran  full  agiiinst  a  man 
who  was  coming  up.  This  man  was  hurled  violently 
against  the  wall,  and  shouted  out  after  them, — 

"  Confound  you,  you  youiig  imps  1  what  do  you 
mean  by  that,  for  instance  ?  " 

He  was  an  Englishman. 

They  next  dashed  against  a  man  who"  evaded 
them  with  difficulty. 

"  Sac-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-e  !  "  That  was  his  excla- 
mation. 

He  was  a  Frenchman. 

But  still  they  went  thundering  down,  till  in  the 
whole  spiral  way  there  arose  a  din  that  went  echo- 
ing far  down  and  far  above. 

Another  man, — 

"  Donner  and  blitz  I " 

He  was  a  German. 

Another  man,  — 

"  Dunder  and  blitzen  I " 

He  was  a  Dutchman. 

Another  man,  — 

"  Bismillah  1 " 

He  was  a  Turk. 

Another  man,  — 


44  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

"  Caramba ! " 

He  was  a  Spaniard. 

Another  man,  — 

"  Santissima  Madre  I  " 

He  was  an  Italian. ' 

Another  man. 

He  was  dressed  like  a  priest.  His  exclamation 
was  an  astonishing  one.     It  was,  — 

"  Thunder  and  turf  I  ye  thafes  av  the  wurruld 
ye's  !  '' 

Evidently  an  Irishman. 

But  the  next  exclamation  was  still  more  ex- 
traordinary. The  man  who  uttered  it  was  tall  and 
thin.  He  v/ore  a  tail  coat,  black  satin  waistcoat, 
black  brcadcloth  trousers,  and  fuzzy  white  beaver 
hat.  Against  this  man  each  of  the  boys  ran  with 
all  his  force,  and  each  successive  blow  was  worse 
than  the  preceding.  Stagg'ering  up  from  the  last 
blow,  the  man  stared  dowr^  the  incline  at  the 
vacancy  into  which  they  had  vanished,  and  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  J-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-rew-salem ! " 

And  he  was  a  Yankee. 

The  boys  heard  the  cry,  and  at  this  they  l.;lt  a 
wonderful  degree  of  reassurance.  They  felt  as 
though  they  were  at  home  again.  Their  pace 
slackened  involuntarily,  and  now,  though  they  met 
many  more  people,  yet  they  went  by  them  carefully, 
without  jostling  them,  or  startUng  them  in  any 
way. 


VISITORS  TO  ST.   PETER'S.  45 

Now,  several  reasons  may  be  given  why  so  many 
people  were  going  up  to  the  roof  of  St.  Peter's. 
In  the  first  place  it  was  the  season  when  Rome  is 
fuller  than  at  any  other  time.  The  Carnival  was  at 
hand,  after  which  would  come  Lent,  ending  with 
Holy  Week  and  the  magnificent  illumination  of  St. 
Peter's.  This,  then,  was  the  season  when  Rome 
offered  its  greatest  attractions,  and  when  strangers 
flocked  in  from  all  lands ;  when  the  Eternal  City 
made  itself  all  ready  for  them,  and  cleaned  its  dirty 
streets,  and  donned  its  finest  attire,  and  assumed  its 
brightest  aspect,  and  gave  its  warmest  welcome. 

In  the  second  place,  this  was  just  the  time  of 
day  when  these  visitors  came  in  the  greatest 
throngs  to  St.  Peter's,  to  see  the  vast  cathedral,  to 
ascend  to  its  roof,  to  mount  to  the  dome,  and  pene- 
trate through  the  cupola  to  the  ball. 

At  length  they  reached  the  end  of  their  journey, 
and  stood  at  the  bottom  of  the  descent  in  the 
assured  consciousness  that  they  were  not  pursued. 
Here  they  stood  to  assemble  their  scattered  forces. 
What,  however,  was  their  amazement  when  they 
found  that  David  was  missing  I  At  first  they 
thought  that  he  had  delayed  on  his  way  down, 
and  with  this  thought  they  waited  for  him  some 
time.  But  as  they  waited  and  he  came  not,  the 
gloomy  fear  finally  came  over  all  of  them  that  he 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  Philistines. 

"  Why,"  said  Frank,  "  I  was  sure  that  he  was 
following  us." 


46  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

"  And  I,"  said  Bob,  "  was  sure  that  he  was 
ahead." 

"  Where  was  he  when  we  started  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  He  was  behind  us,"  said  Clive. 

"  Then  he  must  Lave  been  caught,  up  there." 

"  I'm  afraid  he  must." 

''  Poor  Dave  ! " 

"  And  he~  was  the  very  one  that  did  nothing 
at  all." 

"  No;  he  had  no  donkey." 

"  We  were  the  only  ones  to  blame." 

"  Yes  ;  they've  nothing  against  him,  at  any  rate.'* 

'^  And  what  is  more,  he  saved  us,  for  this  flight 
of  ours  was  his  idea." 

"  Yes  ;  and  he's  got  into  a  scrape  for  our  sakes." 

"  We  won't  stand  that,"  said  Frank,  "  and  leave 
Dave  —  this  way." 

'•  Never,"  said  Bob. 

"  Wait,"  said  Clive.  "  Perhaps  Dave  has  relied 
on  this.  You  see  they  can't  touch  him.  They've 
nothing  against  him.  He  didn't  do  anything.  He 
may  be  taking  his  time,  and  coming  down  leisurely 
to  cover  our  retreat.  For  really  there's  no  reason 
why  Jie  should  run  the  way  we  did  at  the  risk  of 
his  neck.  So  let's  wait  here  a  little  longer.  I 
dare  say  he'll  be  here  soon.  He's  all  right.  They've 
no  earthly  reason  to  touch  him." 

"  Why,  of  course  not,"  said  Frank.  "  They 
wouldn't  think  of  touching  him.  O^  yes ;  he's  all 
right.     Well,  boys,  we'd  better  wait  here.     He'll 


DEBATES.  it 

be  along.  There's  no  harm  waiting.  If  he  don't 
turn  np,  we'll  all  go  back,  or  I'll  go  back,  and  you 
can  go  and  tall  Uncle  Moses." 

"  0,  yes,''  said  Bob,  "  of  course  ;  we'll  go  away  — 
won't  we  ?  —  and  leave  you  and  Dave  in  limbo.  0, 
certainly ;  by  all  means." 

"  Weil,  why  not  ?  It's  better  —  isn't  it  ?  —  to  let 
Uncle  Moses  know.  We'll  get  an  interpreter,  too. 
In  fact,  one  of  us  ought  to  go.     Will  you,  Clive  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Clive  ;  *'  I'll  stay  here."  • 

"You,  Bob?" 

"  No,"  said  Bob.     "  What  bosh  ! " 

"  Well,"  said  Frank,  «  I  won't." 

"  Very  well  then,"  said  Clive,  "  let's  wait  for 
Dave."     •'-■'''-  r  -  -■- 

"All  right."  *     -     - 

So  they  stood  and  listened,  and  listened  and 
stood,  and  the  time  passed,  but  still  there  were  no 
signs  of  David.  At  length  they  began  to  grow 
impatient,  then  anxious.  Finally  they  found  that 
they  could  stand  the  anxiety  no  longer. 

"  I  can't  stand  this,"  said  Frank.  "  What's  the 
use  of  waiting  here  ?  " 

"  Something  must  have  happened  to  Dave,"  said 
Clive. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bob  j  "  he's  in  the  hands  of  the 
Philistines." 

"He  must  be,"  said  Frank;  "or  else  he'd  have 
been  down  before  this." 

"  What  I  wonder  at,"  said  Clive,  "  is,  that  no  one 
has  come  down  after  us." 


48  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

"  0,  they  thought,  no  doubt,  that  we  had  run  off 
homo." 

"  But  they  could  see  that  we  did  not  leave  the 
cathedral.  If  we  had,  they'd  have  seen  us  cross- 
ing the  piazza." 

"  0,  no,  they  couldn't ;  they  might  suppose  that 
we  ran  through  the  colonnades." 

^•'  That's  true ;  for  that's  the  very  thing  we  would 
have  done." 

"  I  don't  see  the  use  of  waiting  here  any  longer," 
said  Frank. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Clive. 

"  I  don't,  I'm  sure,"  said  Bob. 

"  Well,  then,  we've  got  to  go  back  for  Dave," 
said  Frank. 

"  There's  nothing  else  to  do,"  said  Clive.  "  We 
can  give  ourselves  up  again;  and  then,  perhaps 
they'll  let  him  go." 

"Poor  Dave,"  said  Bob.  "He  must,  think  it 
queer  that. we've  left  him  so  long;  but  we  couldn't 
help  it ;  for  we'd  have  gone  back,  but  we  thought 
he  wasn't  in  any  danger,  and  that  he'd  be  down." 

"  0,  don't  you  fret,"  said  Clive.  "  Never  fear  ; 
Dave  knows  us.  He  knows  we  won't  leave 
him." 

"  Well,  there's  one  thing,"  said  Frank,  "  we'll 
find  some  people  up  there  now  who  can  speak 
English." 

"I  don't  see  what  good  that'll  do,"  said  Bob. 
"  We  can  speak  English  very  well  ourselves." 


CONJECTURES.  49 

"  0, 1  mean,  of  course,  that  they  can  speak  Italian, 
too." 

"  But  perhaps  thoy  can't,"  said  Bob  ;  "  so  what 
then?" 

"  Didn't  you  notice  that  Irishman  ?  "  said  Chve. 

"  Of  cc'irse  we  did ;  and  the  Yankee,  too,  with 
his  J-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-rew-salem !  That  word  came 
hko  balm  to  my  wounded  heart,  Clive." 

"  0,  but  didn't  you  notice  that  the  Irishman  was 
dressed  as  a  priest  ?  " 

"Well,  what  of  that?  He's  none  the  less  an 
Irishman.  For  my  part,  I  don't  believe  any  Irish- 
man can  speaii  Italian." 

"  But  this  man  was  dressed  like  an  Italian  priest," 
said  Clive.     "  I  noticed  that  very  plainly." 

"  So  he  was,"  said  Frank. 

"  H'm,"  said  Bob  ;  "  that's  something.  Perhaps 
he  does  know  Italian.  He  may  be  a  regular  Roman 
priest,  brought  here  in  childhood,  and  educated 
by  the  Pope  himself.  Hurrah  !  My  heart  always 
warms  to  an  Irishman.  It  warrums,  so  it  does. 
But  how  delicious  his  Italian  must  be  if  he  spakes 
it  wid  that  illigant  brogue  av  his  !  Sure  an  it's  the 
foinest  brogue  intoirely  that  ivir  I  sot  ois  on,  so 
it  wor." 

"  But  I'm  afraid,"  said  Frank,  "  that  the  Irish 
priest,  even  if  he  does  speak  Italian,  won't  be  of 
much  use.  He  can't  feel  very  friendly  towards  us. 
Didn't  we  almost  knock  him  down  ?  " 

"  Pooh  I  what  of  that  ?  "  said  Bob.     "  An  Irishman 
4 


*60  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

would  be  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  take  offence 
at  that.  Don't  you  remimber  the  owld  song, 
sure  ?  — 

*  He  spakes  to  his  frind,  and  for  love  knocks  him  down.' 

Never  you  fear.  The  last  thing  he  would  think  of 
would  be  to  take  offence.  I  dare  say  he's  laugh- 
ing over  it  now." 

"  Well,  after  all,"  said  Frank,  "  it  don't  make  any 
difference  ;  there's  no  use  for  us  to  wait  here  any 
longer.     We  must  go  up  at  on(;e.     So  come  along." 

"  All  right,"  said  Bob  and  Clive. 

So  the  three  boys  began  to  ascend  once  more  to 
the  roof.  As  they  went  up  they  expected  every 
moment  to  meet  David  coming  down.  They 
cherished  the  hope  that  his  perfect  innocence, 
and  the  fact  that  he  had  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  their  adventure,  might  induce  the  authorities 
of  the  upper  regions  to  release  him  at  once.  But 
they  pursued  many  and  many  a  round  of  their 
weary  way,  and  still  there  were  no  signs  of  him. 

At  last  they  began  to  grow  despondent,  and  to 
fear  that  David  li  id  fallen  a  victim  to  the  anger  of 
the  authorities,  which  they  themselves  had  kindled. 
They  hardly  knew  what  to  do,  but  determined  at 
all  events  to  save  him. 

And  in  this  frame  of  mind,  and  with  this  resolve, 
they  went  up. 


DAVID  A  PRISONER.  51 


CHAPTER  lY. 

David  a  Prisoner.  —  In  the  Hands  of  the  Philistines.  —  A 
new  Corner.  —  Padre  O'  Toule.  —  The  little  Chamber.  — 
An  Inquisition.  —  The  Rogues^  the  Spalpeens^  and  the 
Oinadhawns. —  The  Boys  all  under  Inquisition. — F^ir- 
ther  Journeys.  —  The  Dome.  —  The  Lantern.  —  The  Ball. 
—  Boundless  View.  —  The  Exile  and  his  Confidences.  — 
The  Farewell. 

MEANWHILE  David  had  been  seized  by 
the  priests,  the  gendarme,  and  the  small 
boys.  An  excited  crowd  surrounded  him, 
of  whom  the  priests  were  the  chief  speakers.  And 
it  was, — Who  was  he?  What  was  he?  What 
did  he  want?  What  did  he  mean?  Was  he  one 
of  that  party  of  young  English  miscreants  who 
had  come  here  to  desecrate,  to  dishonor,  to  insult, 
to  revile  ?  He  was.  For  had  he  not  connived  at 
the  escape  of  his  friends  ? 

To  all  of  which  David  listened  with  the  calmness 
of  conscious  innocence,  but  understood  not  one 
single  word.  He  had  no  desire  to  imitate  Bob's 
example,  and  answer  their  sonorous  and  unintelligi- 
ble Italian  with  sonorous  and  unintelligible  Eng- 
lish.   He   simply  preserved   his   calm   demeanor, 


52  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

and  remained  silent  while  the  priests  talked  to 
him. 

But  for  the  priests  the  question  was  a  perplexing 
one.  Even  with  the  other  boys  who  had  been  the 
real  offenders,  they  had  scarcely  known  what  to 
do,  and  had  not  altogether  made  up  their  minds 
about  the  case.  But  as  for  this  boy,  they  knew 
that  he  was  perfectly  innocent.  His  only  offence, 
as  far  as  they  could  see,  was,  that  he  had  run  off 
after  the  others.  Still  it  was  evident  that  he 
belonged  to  the  offending  party,  and  they  felt 
that  something  ought  to  be  done  to  avenge  the 
insult  that  had  been  offered. 

So  they  talked  apart  for  some  time,  and  the 
more  they  talked,  the  more  they  felt  the  need  of 
an  interpreter.  While  they  talked,  the  gendarme 
held  David. 

Meanwhile  a  number  of  persons  ascended.  They 
were  all  visitors,  and  passed  onward  to  the  great 
dome.  At  last  a  person  came  up  who  was  dressed 
in  the  garb  of  a  priest.  The  moment  that  this 
man  made  his  appearance.  Priest  Number  One  said 
to  Priest  Number  Two,  — 

"  How  fortunate  I  here  is  Padre  O'Toule.  He 
can  speak  to  the  boy." 

So  they  called  to  the  newly-arrived  priest. 

He  turned  about  and  came  towards  them.  He 
Was  a  man  of  middle  age  and  middle  size.  He 
had  short,  curly  hair,  a  round,  red  face,  w  dh  much 
good  humor  in  its  expression,  and  a  pair  of  eyes 


THE   LITTLE   CHAMBER.  53 

in  his  head  which  looked  out  upon  the  world  with 
a  great  deal  of  spriglitliness  and  acuteness. 

The  priests  said  to  this  Padre  O'Toule  all  that 
they  wished,  whereupon  the  latter  looked  at  David 
very  curiously.  Then  the  whole  party  went  away 
to  another  place  on  the  farther  side  of  the  roof,  so 
as  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  concourse  of  visitors. 
Here  the  priests  talked  long  and  solemnly  to  Padre 
O'Toule,  with  very  serious  faces  on  their  part,  but 
with  a  face  on  Padre  O'Toule's  part  which  grew 
very  red  and  very  queer.  In  fact.  Padre  O'Toule 
seemed  to  David  to  be  affected  by  some  internal 
convulsion ;  and  he  also  used  his  handkerchief 
frequently,  to  cover  his  mouth  and  nostrils  as 
though  he  was  affected  by  the  air. 

At  last  he  said  to  the  priests  in  Italian,  "  Leave 
the  boy  with  me.  PIl  talk  with  him.  I'll  be  re- 
sponsible." Then  turning  away,  he  came  to  David, 
and  taking  him  by  the  arm  he  led  him  off  to  the 
rear  of  the  edifice.  Here  there  was  a  small  cham- 
ber close  by  the  main  cupola,  and  Padre  O'Toule 
took  David  in.     The  ethers  quietly  dispersed. 

As  soon  as  he  had  brought  David  inside.  Padre 
O'Toule  flung  himself  down  on  a  rude  bench,  and 
then  proceeded  to  burst  forth  into  peals  of  laugh- 
ter, so  wild,  so  vehement,  and  so  irrepressible,  that 
David  began  to  fancy  that  he  was  in  the  power  of 
a  madman.  What,  then,  must  have  been  his  wonder, 
when  Padre  O'Toule,  suddenly  mastering  his  laugh- 
ter, looked  up  with  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  and 
burst  forth  into  the  following  :  — 


54  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

"  Och,  be  the  powers,  thin  !  but  it's  a  qnaro  bird, 
so  yo  are,  an  it's  a  f'oino  geeme  ye've  bon  a  y)layin. 
To  have  a  donkey  race,  an  on  the  top  av  St.  Peter's  ! 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Och,  ye  rogue,  but  ye'll  be  the  death 
of*  me  intoirely,  so  ye  will.  Ha,  ha,  ha,  lia,  ha  ! 
But  what  is  it  all,  sure?  Tell  me  all  about  it, 
jool." 

At  the  sound  of  these  words,  spoken  in  tin's 
familiar  Irish  brogue,  the  last  vestige  of  David's 
anxiety  passed  away.  To  him  an  Irishman  seemed 
like  a  fellow-countryman  and  a  brother.  Had  he 
been  an  English  priest,  he  would  have  seemed, 
indeed,  like  a  messenger  of  peace  to  the  lonely 
boy  ;  but  an  Irishman,  with  his  honest,  jovial,  fan- 
loving,  irrepressible  Irish  heart  bursting  forth  in 
every  look  and  accent,  this  was  the  most  fortunate 
thing  that  could  occur.  There  was  also  an  infec- 
tion about  this  man's  laughter  that  communicated 
itself  to  David,  and  before  he  knew  it,  he  caught 
himself  laughing  over  the  absurdity  of  the  whole 
affair. 

So  he  began  by  assuring  the  worthy  priest  that 
he  and  his  friends  had  not  the  remotest  idea  of 
doing  anything  wrong,  but  that  they  met  some 
donkeys  as  they  were  on  their  way  up,  and  thought 
that  they  would  have  a  ride  to  the  top,  so  as  to  save 
the  trouble  of  walking. 

"  An  sure  an  it  was  a  very  sinsible  ida,  so  it 
was,"  said  Padre  O'Toule ;  "  very  sinsible  an  imi- 
nintly  shuitable.     Wasn't  I  wishin  me  own  self,  as 


AN  INQUISITION.  65 

I  came  up,  that  I  could  havo  a  donkey  that  'ud  give 
me  a  lift.     But  go  on,  jool." 

So  David  proceeded  to  mention  the  success  of 
the  boys  in  mounting,  and  his  own  scrimmage  with 
the  donkey  that  wouldn't  let  him  mount. 

This  was  greeted  with  fresh  laughter  by  Padre 
O'Toule. 

"  Faith,  thin,"  said  he, "  an,  be  the  powers,  that 
same  donkey  showed  himself  to  be  a  baste  of 
shuparior  discerrunmint,  an  ayvinced  shuitable 
sintimints  on  sich  raysintmint  av  injury.  For  it's 
as  clare  as  mud  that  ye  had  no  business  in  life 
wid  him,  ye  thafe  av  the  wurruld;  but  go  on, 
darlint." 

"  Well,  then,  you  know,  somehow  the  other  don- 
keys started  off',"  said  David,  "  and  I  was  left  alone. 
I  thought  the  boys  had  gone  off"  themselves,  but  I 
rather  think  now  that  the  donkeys  had  run  away 
with  them." 

"  Ach,  be  off*  now  out  o'  that  wid  yer  nonsinse. 
Run  away  wid  thim,  is  it?  An  thim  same  goin  up 
to  the  roof?  Niver  a  bit  av  it !  They  dhrove  off" 
thimselves,  so  they  did.  But  go  on.  So  ye  wint 
up  afther  thim,  ye  said." 

"  Yes,"  said  David,  "  I  went  up  as  fast  as  I  could, 
for  I  couldn't  help  feeling  a  little  anxious  about 
them,  for  I  didn't  know  anything  about  the  roof. 
I  thought  it  was  an  arched  roof  or  a  sloping  one, 
and  felt  afraid  they  might  fall  off*." 

"  Afeard  they'd  rowl  off*,  is  it  ?  Be  jabers  it's  a 
quare  ida  ye  had  av  the  roof  thin,  so  it  is." 


66  THE  SEVEN   HILLfl. 

"  Wlion  I  got  to  tlio  top  and  looked  around,  I 
couldn't  800  them  anywhere." 

"  Ye  thoujjjht  thin  surely  they'd  come  to  harnim, 
I'll  be  bound;   but  where  were  they?" 

"  Somewiiero   about  on  the  other   side.      Thev 

ft' 

told  mo  afterwards  that  when  they  got  to  the  top, 
the  donkeys  all  ran  away." 

"  Niver  a  bit  av  it.  They  started  off  thimselves, 
the  young  rogues,  so  they  did.  I'd  have  done  it 
meself,  so  I  wud.  'Tisn't  ivery  one  that  has  tlie 
cliance  av  doin  that  same  " 

"  Well,"  continued  David,  "  I  walked  about  for 
two  or  three  minutes,  when  suddenly  I  heard  a 
tremendous  row,  and  the  boys  came  dashing  past 
on  their  donkeys,  and  a  crowd  after  them." 

Here  David  gave  an  eloquent,  vivid,  and  highly 
animated  description  of  that  memorable  scene, 
enlarging  particularly  on  the  gendarme  vA\o  had 
seizecl  the  tail  of  Bob's  donkey.  To  all  this 
Padre  O'Toule  listened  with  undisguised  delight, 
making  him  give  a  particular  description  of  the 
gendarme. 

"  Sure  it's  me  that  knows  that  same  gendarme. 
And  wouldn't  I  like  to  have  seen  him  howldin  on  I 
0,  but  it's  tearin  mad  he  must  have  been  wid  ye's." 

David  then  spoke  about  his  following  after  them, 
and  described  the  scene  that  last  presented  itself* 
before  his  astonished  gaze.  He  then  gave  a  vivid 
account  of  Bob's  plan,  and  a  verbatim  report  of 
his  speech. 


END   OP  THE   INQUISITION.  57 

* 

"  The  young  rogno  I "  exclaimed  Padre  O'Toulo. 
"  The  tlmf'o  av  the  wurruld  !  The  owdacioua  young 
spalpeen!  To  make  a  spache  at  tliim  I  Ila,  ha, 
ha!  Och,  but  it's  mesolf  that  'ud  have  given  any- 
thing to  be  there." 

Finally  David  described  the  escape. 

This  was  the  climax.  Padre  O'Toule  again  burst 
forth,  and  laughed  so  furiously  and  so  long,  that 
David  began  to  fear  for  the  consequences. 

"  0,  dear  !  0,  dear !  0,  dear  !  "  ho  roared  at  last. 
"  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha !  By  tlie  pipers  of  war  !  but 
it's  rogues  they  are  intirely,  so  they  are.  And 
thim  same ;  ha,  ha,  ha !  now  I  remember.  Thim 
same  ;  ha,  ha,  ha  !  yis,  it  was  thim  same,  so  it 
was ;  all  three  av  thim  came  tearin  down  from 
the  roof,  and  nairly  dashed  me  brains  out  by  buttin 
against  me  ;  all  av  thim  as  I  wor  comin  up.  It's  me 
that  saw  thim.  Meself  did.  Sure  an  didn't  I  know 
they'd  been  up  to  mischief.  I  did  that  same.  Me- 
self did.  Och,  but  it's  meself  that'll  niver  get  over 
this  as  sure's  me  name's  Michael  O'Toule.  But 
where  are  they  now  ?  What  in  the  wide  wurruld's 
become  av  thim  thin?  Sure  they  wouldn't  be 
the  boys  to  run  away  an  lave  you  here  in  the 
hands  av  the  inimy,  at  all  at  all." 

"0,  they'll  be  back,"  said  David,  confidently; 
for  he  had  not  the  slightest  idea  that  it  was 
possible  for  his  friends  to  desert  him. 

«  Back  is  it  ?  "  said  Padre  O'Toule. 

"  Yes,"  said  David.     "  I  suppose  they  thought 


58  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

I  was  following  close  behind,  as  I  was  when  I 
started.  I  don't  think  any  of  tliem  saw  me  fall. 
Bob  was  just  ahead  of  me,  and  he  couldn't  have 
seen  me  at  all,  for  he  didn't  look  round  once.  I 
dare  say  by  this  time  they've  missed  me,  and  are 
perhaps  waiting  for  me  somewhere.'* 

"  Bedad,  thin,"  said  Padre  O'Toule,  "  by  this  time 
they'll  be  afther  findin  out  that  yer  not  followin 
thim.  We'd  betther  be  aff  wid  ourselves  to 
hunt  thim  up.  They're  hereabouts  somewhere. 
Come  along  thin,  jool,  an  let's  hunt  up  thim  young 
omadliawns." 

With  these  words  Padre  O'Toule  rose  from  his 
seat.  He  stood  for  a  few  moments  before  David, 
regarding  him  with  a  benevolent  and  affectionate 
smile,  while  his  face  was  still  flushed  and  purple 
from  the  effects  of  his  late  uproarious  laughter. 

"Be  the  powers,"  said  he,  laying  his  hand  in 
an  affectionate  sort  of  way  on  David's  shoulder 
—  "be  the  powers,  but  it  does  me  heart  good,  so 
it  does,  to  get  howld  av  the  likes  av  you,  and  to 
hear  a  good  story,  and  have  a  good  laugh  in  me 
native  language.  It's  sore  an  sick  at  heart  that 
I  am  sometimes,  with  livin  here  where  I'm  cut 
oflf  from  me  own  blood.  Ye've  done  me  good, 
80  ye  have,  by  the  sight  of  yer  honest,  fresh  boy's 
face ;  so  come^  along,  and  let's  hunt  them  young 
spalpeens." 

With  these  words  he  went  out,  followed  by 
David,  who  was  full  of  thankfulness  to  the  honest 


DAVID   UNEASY.  59 

priest,  and  of  confident  hope  that  his  protection 
would  be  sufficient  to  clear  the  boys,  as  well  as 
himself,  from  all  unpleasant  consequences.  Follow- 
ing the  priest  thus,  he  went  towards  the  rear  end 
of  the  church,  where  they  turned,  and  finally 
reached  the  place  from  which  the  descent  was 
to  be  made. 

Many  new  arrivals  had  taken  place  since  David 
had  come,  and  people  were  coming  and  going 
between  this  place  and  the  entrance  to  the  dome. 
David  could  not  help  looking  about  with  a  slight 
feeling  of  uneasiness,  for  fear  that  his  old  enemies, 
or  some  of  them  at  least,  might  appear.  The 
priests  and  the  gendarme,  in  particular,  were  the 
ones  he  dreaded.  But  these  did  not  appear  any- 
where. In  handing  him  over  to  Padre  O'Toule, 
they  seemed  to  have  considered  themselves  free 
from  any  further  responsibility. 

David  also,  at  the  same  time,  could  not  help 
wondering  what  had  become  of  the  boys  ;  whether 
they  could  be  in  hhe  cathedral  below,  or  outside 
on  the  piazza  ;  and  for  a  moment  an  uneasy 
^'^ar  took  possession  of  him,  that  the  priests  and 
gendarme  had  left  the  roof  to  pursue  them,  and 
miglit  possibly  have  captured  them,  and  be  even 
at  this  moment  in  possession  of  them.  These 
thoughts  all  passed  through  his  mind  in  a  few 
moments,  and  in  this  frame,  and  with  these  con- 
jectures and  fears,  he  advanced  with  Padre  O'Toule 
to  the  place  of  descent. 


60  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

At  that  moment  they  heard  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps ascending,  and  approaching  them. 

The  next  instant  David  uttered  a  cry  of  joy. 

For  there,  full  before  tliem,  they  all  stood,  all 
three  —  Frank,  Clive,  and  Bob.  '         '      - 

The  faces  of  these  boys  flushed  with  joy  ;  but 
the  delight  which  they  felt  at  seeing  David  was  at 
first  somewhat  overclouded  by  the  fear  that  he 
was  a  prisoner,  and  then  uncertainty  as  to  their 
own  prospects.  Moreover  they  had  come  up  for 
the  purpose  of  surrendering  themselves  to  the 
enemy.  That  enemy  seemed  to  stand  before  them 
in  the  person  of  this  priest.  They  looked  at  liim  ) 
and  at  one  look  every  fear  and  every  feeling  of 
uneasiness  died  away  within  their  anxious  breasts. 
For  on  that  rosy  face,  with  its  sparkling  eyes  that 
beamed  upon  them  with  a  curiously  quizzical  ex- 
pression, they  saw  the  best  proof  in  the  world  that 
this  strange  priest  was  no  enemy,  —  no  stern  jailer, 
no  inexorable  inquisitor.  Had  any  further  proof 
been  needed,  they  would  have  had  it  in  the  first 
words  that  Padre  O'Toule  addressed  to  them. 

"Aha,"  he  cried,  "ye  young  omadhawns  !  so 
ye're  the  vagabonds  that  wint  and  flistened  a 
gendarme  to  the  ind  av  a  donkey's  tail,  an  pulled 
him  round  the  roof  av  St.  Pether's  ;  and  ye're 
the  young  spalpeens  that  wint  an  powered  ridi- 
cule en  thim  howly  fathers  that  made  ye's  prison- 
ers ;  and  ye're  the  young  rogues  that  wint 
an  dhruv  yerselves  at  me,  head  first,  whin  I  was 


EXAMINATION   OP  THE   BOYS.  61 

laborin  up  the  ascint  here,  an  nearly  dhruv  me  all 
the  way  back  agin.  Come  along,  ye  haythins,  till  I 
have  a  luk  at  ye's  ! " 

The  utter  amazement  of  the  boys  at  these 
words,  like  that  of  David,  was  indescribable,  and 
could  only  be  equalled  by  tht^ir  delight.  They 
followed  him  as  he  led  the  way  back  to  the  little 
den  to  which  he  had  taken  David,  hearing  on  the 
way,  from  him  and  from  David,  enougli  to  reassure 
them  completely.  On  reaching  his  den.  Padre 
O'Toule  sat  down  on  the  judgment  seat,  and 
entered  upon  a  long  and  most  searching  examina- 
tion oi  their  case. 

Which  examination  consisted  in  making  each 
boy  tell  the  whole  story  over  again. 

In  asking  each  one  what  he  himself  did,  saicl, 
and  thought,  particularly. 

In  asking  how  each  of  the  priests  looked. 

In  inquiring  with  the  greatest  minuteness  how 
tlie  gendarme  looked  when  hanging  on  to  the 
donkey's  tail.  v,    , 

And  in   making  Bob  rehearse  the  whole  of  his 
famous  speech  to  the  priests. 
•    After  each  of  which  points  in  his  examination  he 
would   burst   forth   into    peals   of  laughter,  long, 
loud,  boisterous,  and  illimitable. 

After  this  he  took  them  all  up  to  see  the  dome 
and  ball  of  St.  Peter's.  On  entering  the  dome, 
they  came  first  to  a  gallery  on  the  inside,  w^  *ch 
ran  completely  round.     Looking  down,  they  saw 


62  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

revealed  more  impressively  than  ever  the  stupen- 
dous proportions  of  the  greatest  of  cathedrals. 
Between  them  and  the  opposite  walls  of  the 
dome  lay  an  abyss  which  made  them  dizzy  to 
contemplate. 

Ascending  still  farther,  the  boys  found  the  way 
leading  up  between  two  domes,  on  one  of  which 
they  walked,  while  the  outer  dome  rose  over  them. 
Such  a  discovery  as  this  added  to  the  wonder  of 
this  mighty  work.  On  reaching  the  top,  they 
found  a  circular  opening,  through  which  they 
looked  down.  The  sensation  was  terrific.  The 
abyss  that  yawned  beneath  made  their  blood  tingle 
and  their  brains  turn  giddy.  From  this  they  went 
up  to  loftier  heights,  until  at  last  their  journey 
was  terminated  by  the  ball.  .  •         :      '      '>  ^ 

On  crawling  inside  of  this,  they  were  struck 
dumb  by  its  size.  From  below  it  looked  no 
larger  than  the  ball  on  any  ordinary  church  under 
the  cross  or  weathercock ;  but  on  reaching  it  they 
found  it  nine  feet  in  diameter,  and  capable  of  con- 
taining a  crowd  of  people.  Through  slits  in  the 
sides  they  looked  forth  and  saw  a  magnificent 
prospect,  including  the  city  i^ielf,  the  towns  and 
villages  far  away,  the  waste  Campagna,  the 
purple  Apennines,  and  the  blue  \yaters  of  the 
Mediterranean. 

On  descending.  Padre  O'Toule  took  them  back 
to  his  little  chamber,  and  chatted  with  them  for 
some  time  in  a  confidential  and  affectionate  manner. 


THE  priest's  kindness.  63 

He  told  them  that  he  had  a  brother  in  New  York, 
Phelim  O'Toule  by  name,  of  which  said  Phelem 
he  gave  them  the  address,  together  with  the  infor- 
mation that  he  kept  a  corner  grocery  there.  And 
he  asked  them  if  there  was  any  probability  that 
any  one  of  them  would  ever  see  the  said  Phelim  ; 
and  they  all  promi  ^d  to  hunt  him  up  when  they 
got  back.  Whereupon  Padre  O'Toule  told  them 
to  tell  "  Phaylim  "  where  they  had  seen  him,  and 
when,  and  how  ;  and  to  inform  the  said  Phaylim 
that  his  brother  Mickey  was  sore  and  sick  at  heart 
for  a  sight  of  him,  and  sent  him  his  heart's  best 
love  and  blessing.  And  the  boys  were  touched 
by  this  instance  of  affectionate  craving  for  tiiose 
sweet  ties  of  kindred  which  had  been  lost  in  exile, 
and  they  all  promised  to  find  Phelim  if  he  was 
alive,  and  tell  him  all  this. 

So  Padre  O'Toule  thanked  them,  and  blessed 
them,  and  led  them  all  the  way  down  the  incline, 
at  the  foot  of  which  he  bade  them  good  by.  When 
he  shook  hands  with  them,  they  saw  that  his  eyes 
were  moist  with  tears. 

And  now  the  boys  hurried  off,  and  they  all 
trotted  back  to  their  lodgings  as  fast  as  their  legs 
would  carry  them. 


64  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 


CHAPTER    V. 

Terror  of  Uncle  Moses.  — Revionstrance.  —  Ancient  Rome, 

—  The  Capitoline  Hill,  —  The  Tower.  —  The  Seven  Hills. 

—  The  Tarpeian  Rock.  —  The  Roman  Forum.  —  The  Arch 
of  Titus.  —  The  ancient  Pavement.  —  The  Palace  of  the 
CcEsars. — Enthusiasm  of  David  and  Clive. —  Tremen- 
dous Outburst  from  Bob. 

N  their  return  home,  they  found  Uncle 
Moses  in  a  state  of  great  agitation.  As 
they  told  him  the  story  of  their  adventures, 
he  exhibited  the  greatest  possible  horror,  and  final- 
ly declared  that  he  would  never  let  them  go  out 
of  his  sight  again. 

"  Why,"  he  exclaimed,  "  it's  truly  dreadful  to 
think  of  To  ride  on  donkeys  over  the  roof  of  a 
church  !  Why,  boys,  you're  crazy.  What  a  prov- 
idence it  was  that  you  didn't  all  tumble  over,  and 
break  your  necks  !  And  only  think  of  me,  —  here 
all  the  time,  as  meek  and  unsuspectin  as  a  lamb. 
Ef  I'd  a  ony  knowed,  ef  I'd  a  ony  conceived  what 
you  were  a  doin  on,  gracious  ony  knows  what 
would  a  become  of  me.  And  then  again,  them 
Roman  priests.  P'aps  they're  Inquisitors.  P'aps 
they'd  a  put  you  in  them  dungeons  that  we've  read 


UNCLE   MOSES'   ANXIETY.  65 

of.  Wal,  I  alius  thought  you  were  kind  o'  skittish 
creeturs,  but  I  never  expected  sich  shines  as  this  X 
from  you,  not  in  all  my  born  days.  Why,  it  beats 
all  that  ever  I  heard  in  my  life.  It's  truly  a  mussy 
that  you  found  that  Irish  priest.  I  don't  think 
Irish  priests  are  as  dreadful  as  I-talian.  They've 
never  had  the  Inquisition  in  Ireland,  at  least  as  far 
as  I  knows  on  ;  but  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him,  you'd 
not  been  here,  mind,  I  tell,  you.  0,  it's  a  great 
thing  for  a  man  to  speak  English,  even  if  it's 
Irish." 

So  Uncle  Moses  announced  his  solemn  intention 
after  tliis  to  keep  the  boys  under  his  own  eye,  and 
not  to  let  them  go  rambling  about  by  themselves, 
where  they  were  exposed  to  such  frightful  dangers 
as  those  at  wliich  he  had  hinted.  And  accordingly, 
on  the  following  day,  when  they  proposed  to  ex- 
plore the  ruins  of  the  ancient  city,  he  accompanied 
them.  Such  a  tour  was  a  sore  trial  to  poor  Uncle 
Moses,  who  took  about  as  much  interest  in  the  ruins 
of  the  past  as  he  might  take  in  the  Chinese  lan- 
guage ;  but  his  anxiety  about  the  boys  superseded 
every  other  feeling,  and  so  he  sacrificed  himself 
for  their  sakes. 

They  first  went  to  the  tower  of  the  Capitol.     It  * 
is  very  high,  and  being  perched  upon  the  top  of 
the  Capitoline  Hill,  it  commands  an  immense  ex- 
tent of  view.  k 

Hero  they  ascended  with  their  "  Murray  "  and  a 
map  oi  Rome,  and  proceeded  to  study,  most  care- 
5 


r 


G6  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

fully,  the  prospect  wliicli  was  spread  out  before 
and  beueatli  tlioiii.  Great  was  the  excitement, 
particularly  o^  the  part  of  David  and  Clive,  as,  one 
by  one,  they  were  able  to  pick  out  some  j)lace,  or 
some  object,  the  name  of  which  had  become  familiar 
to  their  ears  by  their  reading  and  study  at  school. 

On  one  side  was  the  modern  city  of  Rome,  with 
its  domes,  its  steeples,  its  columns,  and  its  obelisks, 
all  rising  above  the  bouse-tops,  like  another  city  in 
the  air.  On  the  other  lay  the  sad  and  melancholy 
ruins  of  the  capital  of  the  ancient  world.  All 
around  rose  those  eminences  whicu  lurm  the  seven 
hills  of  Rome.  On  one  of  them  —  the  Capitoline  — 
they  themselves  were  standing.  Their  first  object 
was  to  find  out  the  seven  hills,  and  for  this  purpose 
they  eagerly  studied  the  map. 

"  There,"  cried  David,  after  a  long  study  of  the 
map,  and  a  long  survey  of  a  certain  rising  ground  ; 
"  there  is  the  Palatine.  That  must  be  it,  —  over 
there,  opposite." 

"  I  see  the  Aventine,"  cried  Frank ;  "  it's  just 
over  there,  nearer  the  Tiber.     It  must  be  it." 

"  And  I  see  the  Quirinal,"  said  Clive.  "  Look, 
Dave.  It's  just  over  there,  where  those  buildings 
are,  that  look  like  palaces." 

"  Yes,"  said  David  ;  "  and  if  that  is  the  Quirinal, 
that  other,  over  there,  must  be  the  Caelian." 

"  And  if  that  other  one,"  said  Frank,  "  isn't  the 
Viminal,  then  I'll  eat  my  grandmother." 

"  0,  bother  your  hills,"  said  Bob ;  "  what  I  want 


THE  TARPEIAN   ROCK.  67 

to  see  is  the  real  genuine,  original  Tarpoian  Rock ; 
the  place  where  they  used  to  pitch  over  their 
traitors." 

"  Well,"  said  David,  "  it's  close  by  here,  some- 
where ;  but  it's  hidden  by  houses.  From  what 
^lurray  says,  it  ought  to  be  over  there;"  and  he 
pointed  in  a  certain  direction.  "  But  wait  till  we 
go  down,  and  we'll  pay  it  a  visit.  It'll  be  the  first 
thing  that  we  will  go  to  see." 

After  finding  out  as  many  objects  and  places  as 
they  were  able  to  identify  with  the  help  of  the  map, 
they  went  down  again  ;  and,  as  Bob  had  suggested 
the  Tarpeian  rock,  they  went  there  without  delay, 
and  found  it  without  any  difficulty.  A  general 
expectation  of  some  tremendous  abyss,  into  which 
they  were  to  look  with  fearful  eyes  from  the  sum- 
mit of  a  lofty  precipice,  was  followed  by  the  utmost 
disappointment  at  the  sight  of  the  actual  place  itself. 
For  the  top  of  the  lofty  precipice  had  been  greatly 
cut  away,  and  its  bottom,  in  the  course  of  centuries, 
or,  as  may  fairly  be  said,  of  thousands  of  years,  had 
greatly  filled  up,  so  that  the  height  was  incon- 
siderable. Bob  offered  to  jump  down  himself  lor 
a  dollar  and  thirty-seven  and  a  half  cents,  and 
Frank  was  about  urging,  or,  rauher,  daring  him  to 
do  so,  when  Uncle  Moses,  in  great  excitement,  in- 
terfered, and  solemnly  extorted  a  promise  from  Bob 
that  he  would  not  do  it.  It  is  not  at  all  likely, 
however,  that  Bob  would  have  jumped  from  the 
Tarpeian  rock,  even  if  Frank  had  dared  him  till 


•08  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

doomadiiy  ;  for,  as  the  hciglit  ia  still  at  least  seventy 
Ibet,  his  bravado  would  scarcely  have  attempted 
that. 

After  leaving  this  place,  they  descended  tlio 
Capitoline  Hill  on  their  way  to  the  Roman  Forum. 
Once  this  place  presented  a  scene  of  the  greatest 
possible  magnificence.  At  one  end  arose  the  Capi- 
toline, crowned  with  marble  temples.  Opposite 
this  arose  another  hill,  —  the  Palatine,  —  whereon 
stood  the  vast  Palace  of  the  Caisars  —  the  Golden 
House  of  Nero ;  and  the  intervening  space  was 
covered  with  temples  and  columns.  But  now  only 
a  few  relics,  feeble  types  of  all  this  former  splen- 
dor, were  visible.  A  few  columns  of  temples,  the 
names  of  which  are  disputed,  still  stand  erect  and 
isolated,  surrounded  by  others  which,  ages  ago, 
fell  prostrate.  The  ancient  pavement  itself  was 
covered,  to  the  depth  of  over  sixteen  feet,  with  the 
crumbled  ruins  of  fallen  edifices.  The  Pi'ace  of 
the  Ctcsars  Iv^s  long  since  returned  to  dust;  all  its 
stones  have  dissolved  ]  and  so  complete  is  the  ruin, 
that  the  whole  hill  is  now  composed  solely  of  the  dis- 
integrated fragments  of  that  once  stupendous  pile. 

"The  Goth,  the  Christian,  Time,  War,  Flood,  and  Fire, 
Have  dealt  upon  the  seven-hilled  city's  pride ; 
Slie  saw  her  glories,  star  by  star,  expire, 
And  up  the  steep  barbarian  nionarchs  ride 
Where  the  car  climbed  the  Capitol;  far  and  wide 
Temple  and  tower  went  down,  nor  left  a  trace. 
Chaos  of  ruins  !     Who  shall  pierce  the  void, 
O'er  the  dim  fragments  cast  a  lunar  liglit, 
Or  say,  Here  was,  or  is,  where  all  is  doubly  night? 


THE   FORUM.  69 

Such  wore  the  thoughts  of  David  and  of  Ch've, 
whoso  well-worn  copies  of  Byron's  "Childe  Harold" 
gave  a  new  tneaning  and  a  fresh  interest  to  all  these 
monuments  of  a  lost  antiquity,  around  which  they 
now  found  themselves  wandering.  The  thought 
that  they  were  now  in  the  place  which  had  once  been 
the  very  heart  of  ancient  Home,  filled  them  with  en- 
thusiasm.    They  were  in  the  Roman  Forum  I 

"The  field  of  freedom,  faction,  fame,  and  blood,  — 
Here  a  proud  people's  passions  were  exhaled. 
From  tlie  first  hour  of  empire  in  the  bud 
To  that  when  further  worlds  to  conquer  failed. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Where  is  the  goal  of  triumph,  the  high  place,  ' 

Where  Kome  enibruced  her  heroes?  where  the  steep 

Tarpeian,  fittest  goal  for  Treason's  race,  — 

The  promontory  where  the  traitor's  leap 

Cured  all  ambition?     Did  the  conquerors  heap 

Tlieir  spoils  here  ?     Ay,  —  and  on  yon  field  below, 

A  thousand  years  of  hostile  factions  sleep. 

The  i  orum  !  where  the  immortal  accents  glow, 

And  still  the  eloquent  air  breathes,  burns  with  Cicero." 

Such  were  the  words  with  which  David  sought  to 
express  the  feelings  of  his  soul.  In  such  a  place  it 
was  no  wonder  that  he  should  be  wrought  up  to  a 
higher  enthusiasm  than  common.  And,  indeed,  in 
this  Forum,  in  spite  of  the  ruin  and  desolation 
around  them,  all  the  boys  felt  most  strongly  the 
position  in  which  they  were,  and  realized  to  its 
fullest  extent  the  sense  of  the  presence  of  the 
past  It  was  Bob,  however,  who  first  gave  ex- 
pression to  this  feeling.     He  had  been  silent  for 


70  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

a  long  time.  David  and  Clivo  had  been  loud,  and 
proinse,  and  eloquent  in  the  expression  of  their 
feelings.     And  at  length  he  burst  forth  too. 

"Well,  it's  queer,  too  —  all  this.  Somehow  it's 
as  odd  as  though  I  had  come  to  the  actual  castle 
where  the  sleeping  princess  was  confined ;  or  the 
ruins  of  the  palace  of  Beauty  and  the  Beast.  It's 
like  seeing  a  plank  from  the  ship  of  Sinbad  the 
Sailor;  or  one  of  the  hairs  from  the  tail  of  Puss  in 
Boots;  or  the  real,  original,  authentic  Simon  Pure, 
lionest  nigger,  glass  slipper  that  was  worn  by  Cin- 
derella at  the  immortal  ball ;  or  the  bone  that  was 
found  in  the  dilapidated  cupboard  by  the  original 
Mother  Hubbard  ;  or  the  actual  and  veritable  shoe 
that  the  old  woman  lived  in,  who  had  so  many 
children  that  she  didn't  know  what  to  do ;  or  the 
bowl  of  the  three  wise  men  of  Gotham  ;  or  the  iden- 
tical wheelbarrow  that  the  bachelor,  who  lived  by 
himself,  wheeled  his  wife  home  in  from  London ; 
or  even  the  identical  fiddle  that  was  played  by  the 
immortal  and  never-to-be-forgotten  Cat,  to  the  ven- 
erable air  of  rTey-diddl(r,  diddle." 

"  0,  Bob,"  cried  David,  "  what  in  the  world  is  the 
meaning  of  such  a  perfect  torrent  of  nonsense?" 

«  Well,"  said  Bob,  "  I  can't  help  it.  Haven't  I 
been  reading,  and  studying,  and  thinking  about 
these  things  all  my  life  —  Romulus  and  Aladdin; 
Numa  and  Haroun  Al  Raschid  ;  Rome  and  Bagdad ; 
the  Wolf  and  the  White  Cat ;  Tarquin  and  Cama- 
ralzaman ;  Coriolauus  and    Robinson   Crusoe  ;    the 


bob's  rigmarole.  71 

Gracclii  and  Goody  Two  Shoes;  Dontatiia  and 
Don  Quixote;  Miitiiis  Scevola  and  I^aron  Miin- 
cliauson ;  ll(*g:nlus  and  Uinaldo  Hinaldini  ;  Scipio 
and  iSinbad  ;  Fabius  and  the  Forty  Thieves;  Tar- 
quin  and  the  King  of  the  Cannibal  Ishmds  —  all  of 
them  —  and  a  tliousand  more;  even  inchiding  Han- 
nibal, and  Cincinnatus,  and  Manlius,  and  Julius 
CiXisar  —  every  rnotlicr'a  son  of  them,  including 
the  mother  of  the  Gracchi,  have  been  jumbled  up 
in  my  confused  brain  in  company.  And  now  you 
bring  mo  to  the  Capitol  and  the  Palatine.  You  go 
to  work  and  hnd  out  all  the  other  hillt^.  You  fetch 
me  here  to  where  the  Romans  seized  the  Sabino 
women.  I  am  supposed  to  see  around  mo  the 
places  that  are  associated  with  the  memories  of 
Brutus  and  Lucretia;  of  Appius  Claudius  and  Vir- 
ginia. That  Capitol,  I  suppose,  is  the  ])lace  where 
Manlius  saved  Rome,  and  whore  Camilla  found  the 
Gauls.  This,  I  dare  say,  is  the  identical  spot  in 
the  Forum  where  the  Romans  calmly  went  on  with 
the  sale  of  real  estate  when  Hannibal  was  at  their 
gates.  0,  yes ;  of  course.  And  now,  pray,  why 
mayn't  I  expect  to  visit  Banbury  Cross  next  —  the 
place  I  used  to  trot  to  when  I  was  a  tender  infant 
on  my  nurse's  knee?  Why  mayn't  I  see  the  origi- 
nal Busy  Bee,  that  improves  the  shining  hour,  and 
gathers  houey  all  the  day  from  every  opening 
flower?  or  the  dogs  that  delight  to  bark  and  bite? 
or  *Lo,'  the  poor  Indian?  or  'Gayly'  the  cele- 
brated Troubadour  ?     Is  there  anything  now,  I  ask 


72  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

you,  to  prevent  me  from  finding  out  who  killed 
Cock  Robin?  or  from  visiting  tlie  house  that  Jack 
built?  Havn't  the  Museums  somewhere  a  pickle- 
jar,  containing  the  thigh-bone  of  the  Giant  who 
'smelled  the  blood  of  an  Englishman'?  But  the 
best  of  it  all  is,  that  there  really  is,  somewhere 
about  here,  the  real,  original,  veritable  Pope  of 
Eome,  whom  I  was  brought  up  tc  consider  a  kind 
of  '  Old  Bogie.'     Where  is  he  ?     Trot  him  out." 

Bob  ended,  and  looked  away  with  a  disconsolate 
expression.  Frank  laughed.  Clive  shrugged  his 
shoulders  —  a  little  trick  that  he  had  learned  at 
Naples ;  while  David  assumed  an  expression  of 
isimple  horror — horror,  in  fact,  that  was  beyond 
the  power  of  words  to  express.  Uncle  Moses, 
however,  regarded  Bob  for  a  moment  with  an  ex- 
pression of  strong  disapproval. 

"  You  should  not  talk  so,  Robert,"  said  be,  "'n  a 
tone  of  rebuke.  "  You  shouldn't  revile  them  that's 
dead  and  gone.  The  ancient  Romans  never  did 
you  any  harm.  Ancient  Rome  was  a  very  superior 
place.  Many  of  the  ancient  Romans  were  uncom- 
mon smart  men.  I  take  quite  an  interest  in  the 
ancient  Romans  —  I  do,  railly.  Some  of  them  I 
railly  admire.  Not  that  I  think  much  of  Nero,  or 
any  of  them  cusses ;  but,  at  any  rate,  Hannibal  was 
a  smart  chap,  and  so  was  Demosthenes,  and,  and  — 
Nebuchadnezzar.  However,  1  -'jn't  know  much 
about  them ;  but,  at  any  rate,  I  won't  stand  still, 
and  hear  them  poked  fun  at,  behind  their  backs. 
So  you  jest  mind  how  you're  a  goin  on." 


THE   ARCH   OF  TITUS.  73 

Bub  looked  down  at  this  rebuke  with  a  meek 
emile,  and  didn't  say  anything  for  some  time.  They 
all  then  resumed  their  walk,  while  David  and  Clive, 
pondering  over  the  map,  made  out  place  after 
place.  These  two  went  into  raptures  over  every- 
thing, while  Uncle  Moses,  and  Frani',  and  Bob 
listened  in  silence.  At  last  they  came  to  a  ven- 
erable arch. 

"  It's  the  Arch  of  Titus  ! "  said  Clive. 

"  And,  see,"  said  David,  "  here's  the  real,  ancient 
pavement  of  the  road  —  the  same  as  the  pavement 
of  the  Appian  Way,  wL  ch  we  s?w  at  Cuma3." 

"  See,"  cried  Clive,  "  these  sculptured  ornaments 
of  the  Jewish  temple.  How  often  I  have  seen 
pictures  of  this  !  " 

"  But  look,"  said  David,  "  at  the  pavement. 
How  many  conquerors  have  trodden  this !  Flow 
many  triumphs  have  gone  over  this  up  to  the  '~^api- 
toline  Hill!  :    _,  , ,,   .  . 

*  Blest,  and  thrice  blest,  the  Romr'n 
Who  sees  Rome's  brightest  day; 
Who  sees  the  long,  victorious  pomp 
Wind  down  tlie  Sacred  Way, 
J  And  tlirougli  the  bellowing  Forum, 

And  round  the  Suppliant's  Grove, 
Up  to  the  everlasti'.g  gates 
Of  Cspitclint  Jove  ! ' 

"What  a  place  this  i?  ! "  he  continued.  "  Is  there 
any  place  on  earth  equal  to  it  ?  All  the  past 
gathers  around  us  here,  from  Romulus  the  founder, 


74  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

to  that  other  Romulus  —  Augustulus,  the  last  of 
the  degenerate  emperors ;  I  may  say,  even  to 
llienzi  —  the  '  last  of  Romans.'  Wliat  scenes  has 
this»place  witnessed  I "  '"    ''        ' 

At  this  Bob  burst  forth.  '     '      '' '        •'-';, 

"  Yes,"  he  cried,  with  irrepressible  absurdity, 
and  in  a  wild,  melo-dramatic  manner,  —  "yes  ;  me- 
thinks  I  see  them  all,  my  friends,  in  my  mind's 
eye,  Horatio.  This  is  the  place  where  Abraham 
led  in  triumph  the  captive  kings ;  where  Moses 
defeated  the  Amalekites;  where  the  children  of 
Israel  spoiled  the  jd]gyptians ;  and  the  walls  of 
Jericho  fell  down  flat !  Here,  my  friends,  Nebu- 
chadnezzar raised  his  great  golden  image,  and 
Siiadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego  walked  through 
the  fiery  furnace.  Here  Lycurgus  and  Solon  com- 
posed their  laws,  and  Pisistratus  edited  the  Iliad 
and  the  Odyssey.  Here,  too,  Alexander  wept,  be- 
cause there  were  no  more  worlds  to  conquer  —  " 

"  I  suppose  you  think  that  wit,"  interrupted 
Clive,  with  a  sneer.  "  Don't  you  know  what  the 
fellow  is  called  who  can  ridicule  a  sacred  place?" 

"  He's  trying  to  be  sarcastic,  now,"  said  David. 
"He  thinks  this  sort  of  thing  is  wit." 

"  Come,  boys,"  said  Frank.  "  That's  not  fair. 
You've  had  your  blow,  and  Bob  ought  to  have 
his."  :,.,:.,^  -::;,    „.,-,;    ;, - 

"I     scorn    your   profane    interruptions   to   my 

.nthusiasm,"  cried  Bob,   in  no  way  disconcerted. 

"Didn't  you  yourselves  bring  before  me  all  these 


TREMENDOUS  OUTBURST  FROM  BOB.       75 

hallowed  associations  ?  So  yon  jnst  hold  yonr  jawa, 
both  of  yon.  I'm  looking  at  Hannibal  now.  IIo's 
hurling  his  spear  at  the  ancient  Romans,  who  are 
calmly  selling  at  auction  the  ground  on  which 
his  camp  is  pitched.  I'm  looking  at  Caractacus, 
Boadicea,  and  Cassivelaunus,  as  they  stand  liere, 
exclaiming,  '  How  is  it  possible  for  people  pos- 
sessing so  much  magnificence  at  home  to  envy  us 
our  very  ordinary  thatched  cottages  in  the  old 
country?'  Horace  and  Virgil  are  singing  them- 
selves hoarse.  Livy  is  walking  about,  with  his 
memorandum-book,  arm  in  arm  with  Numa  and 
Pompey.  Here  comes  Cicero,  Avitli  his  speech 
against  Catiline,  followed  by  the  ancient  Romans, 
with  dictionaries,  to  make  him  out ;  and  some  of 
tlie  rascals  have  Bohn's  translations  under  their 
arms.  But  who  is  this?  Who  in  the  world  is 
this?  Why,  really!  Why,  good  gracious!  If  it 
isn't  his  own  very  self!  Onr  own  old  friend  — 
Balbus  !  Balbus  oadificat  murum !  Yes,  Balbus 
is  building  a  wall !  and  all  around  us  we  see  the 
very  walls  that  Balbus  used  to  build  in  the  days 
when  we  were  studying  those  confounded  Arnold's 
Latin  Exercises." 

Here  Bob  stopped  obruptly ;  but  David  and 
Clive,  too  much  disgusted  at  his  levity  to  listen  to 
him,  had  already  gone  out  of  hearing. 


76  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Palace  of  the  Casars.  —  The  Miij^htiest  of  Rtiins.  — 
The  Coli'icuvi.  —  Arches  on  Arches. — Bob  and  Frank 
attempt  to  explore. —  David  and  Clive  investigate.  — 
Uncle  Moses  meditates  and  calcjtlates.  —  Suddeti  and 
startling  Interriiption  of  Meditations  and  Calcnlations. 
—  A  wild  Alarm. —  Terrijic  Peril  of  Bob.  — Away  in 
Pursuit. 

tT  was  bv  the  Arch  of  Titus  that  Bob  had  dis- 
gusted  David  and  Clive  by  his  ill-timed  levi- 
ty. Not  far  away  from  this  arch  was  a 
place,  which,  to  these  two,  offered  attractions  quite 
equal  to  any  which  any  other  place  in  Rome  pos- 
sessed, and  it  was  towards  this  that  they  directed 
their  steps  when  they  turned  away  from  Bob's 
light  and  trifling  chatter. 

This  place  was  the  Palace  of  the  Gtesars  ;  or, 
rather,  the  ruins  thereof,  the  entrance  to  which  is 
near  the  Arch  of  Titus.  Of  the  once  magnificent 
and  perhaps  unequalled  structure  known  in  histo- 
ry by  tl..  Sv  uuding  name,  nothing  is  now  left  save 
a  mountain  of  rubbish,  and  vast  sub-structures  but 
recently  laid  open  to  the  light  of  day.  The  Pala- 
tine Mount  was  once  all  cut  away  to  afford  a  place 


PALACE   OF  THE   CEiURS.  77 

for  it.  Afterwards,  during  the  ages,  the  mighty  edi- 
fice crumbled  into  dust,  and  out  of  its  ruins  there 
arose  another  Palatine  Mount  —  that  one  which 
now  rises  before  the  astonished  gaze  of  the  visitor 
to  Rome.  This  new  Palatine  Monnt  is  formed  thus 
IVom  the  ruins  of  the  Palace  of  the  Ctesars,  xnd  its 
very  soil  is  made  up  out  of  the  disintegrated  atoms 
of  that  which  once  arose  in  this  plaee  in  the  form 
of  stately  column,  fretted  roof,  or  towering  dome. 
The  ruin  is  complete.  In  all  the  world  Uiing 
can  be  seen  more  complete  in  its  desolati  n,  more 
amazing  in  its  utter  decay.  The  Palace  of  the 
Ciesars,  the  Golden  House  of  Nero,  the  wonder  of 
the  Roman  world,  is  now  a  mountain  of  rubbish, 
where  weeds  grow,  and  wild  grasses,  and  trees ; 
and  ivy  clings  to  the  crumbling  fragments  of  wall, 
that  still  arise  to  view.  To  the  spade  of  the  exca- 
vator is  alone  due  the  knowledge  of  its  true  char- 
acter, and,  had  it  not  been  for  this,  it  might  have 
been  doubted  that  such  a  ruin  had  ever  been 
wrought. 

Cypress,  and  ivy,  weed,  and  wall-floAvcr  grown, 
Matted  and  massed  together ;  hillocks,  heaped 
On  what  were  chambers,  are  crushed,  columns  strewn 
In  fragments,  choked  up  vaults,  and  frescoes  steeped 
In  subterranean  damps,  where  the  owl  peeped, 
Deeming  it  midnight;  temples,  baths,  or  halls. 
Pronounce  who  can ;  for  all  that  learning  reaped 
From  her  research  hath  been  that  tliese  are  walls. 
Behold  the  imperial  mount!    'tis  thus  the  mighty  falls! 


78  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

But  this  did  not  long  attract  their  attention,  for 
soon  they  were  called  away  by  another  object  so 
vast,  so  strange,  so  impressive,  that  it  altogether 
eclipsed  everything  which  they  had  thus  far  seen. 
It  was  a  ruin  of  vast  dimensions.  Its  shape  seemed 
circular  as  they  approached  it.  On  one  side  it 
was  a  dilapidated  pile  of  stones,  while  on  another 
side  it  presented  the  appearance  of  rows  of  arches 
in  perfect  preservation,  rising  one  above  another 
to  the  height  of  four  stories,  the  summit  being  as 
liigli  above  the  pavement  as  the  top  of  an  ordinary 
church  steeple.  No  need  was  there  for  them  .o 
look  into  their  guide-book  now,  or  to  examine  their 
man.  They  knew  at  once,  at  the  first  glance,  wliat 
this  mighty  mass  must  be.  From  descriptions  in 
books  of  travels,  from  pictures,  from  photograplis, 
they  were  thorouglily  familiar  with  the  unequalled 
ruin,  and,  though  there  were  certain  differences 
now  in  its  actual  appearance  from  that  form  wiiich 
they  held  in  their  memories,  yet  the  gigantic 
structure,  as  a  whole,  could  not  possibly  be  mis- 
taken for  anything  else  in  all  the  world  ;  and  so, 
as  they  hurried  towards  it  in  silence  and  in  deep 
thought,  they  all  knew  well  that  this  could  be  no 
other  thing  than  the  Coliseum.  ^r^     v'     ---  , 

Every  one  is  familiar  with  the  name  and  the  na- 
ture of  this  great  structure.  It  was  built  during 
the  reigns  of  the  emperors  Vespasian  and  Titus, 
and  was  designed  to  be  an  amphitheatre  which 
should  correspond   in   immensity  and  in  splendor 


THE   COLISEUM.  79 

with  the  greatness  of  the  capital  of  the  world. 
When  at  length  it  was  finished  and  opened  to  the 
Roman  public,  the  spectacles  began,  and  no  less 
than  twenty  thousand  gladiators  were  killed  in  a 
few  days,  during  the  opening  entertainments. 
Otiier  cities  in  the  Roman  empire  could  boast  of 
amphitheatres  of  vast  dimensions  —  so  vast,  in- 
deed, that  their  ruins,  even  at  the  present  day, 
fill  the  mind  of  the  spectator  with  wonder.  But 
the  Coliseum  far  surpassed  them  all,  and  never  has 
any  edifice  been  reared  since  then  which  has  pos- 
sessed at  once  such  capacity  and  such  endur- 
ing solidity.  It  was  seven  hundred  feet  long,  and 
live  hundred  feet  wide.  Its  outer  walls  were  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  height,  and  it  could  ac- 
commodate one  hundred  thousand  spectators.  la 
the  arena  the  professional  gladiators  struggled 
with  one  another,  and  with  wild  beasts.  Some- 
times, also,  water  was  let  in,  and  galleys  filled  with 
gladiators  represented  to  the  spectators  sea  fights  ; 
not  sham  fights,  but  real  fights,  where  the  waters 
were  died  red  with  human  blood,  and  the  bodies 
of  the  slain  floated  about,  a  ghastly  sight,  in  the 
presence  of  the  bloodthirsty  Romans.  But  it  was 
not  only  gladiators  who  fought  here  and  died, — 
others  of  nobler  character  here  laid  down  their  lives. 
•  Here  the  Christian  martyr  was  called  on  to  witness 
for  Christ ;  here  the  venerable  disciple  of  Jesus  fell 
before  the  fury  of  wild  beasts  or  the  stroke  of  the 
gladiator's  sword ;    or,  worse  than  all,  died  amid 


80  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

the  lingering  agonies  of  burning  at  the  stake.  Tlio 
sand  of  the  arena  was  dyed  witli  the  blood  of  the 
pure  and  the  holy,  —  not  of  men  only,  but  of  weak 
women  and  tender  children.  Wherefore  this  Col- 
iseum may  now  be  looked  upon  as  a  holy  place ; 
and  now,  in  the  midst  of  this  arena  there  arises  a 
cross  in  the  place  where  once  flowed  the  blood  of 
the  servants  of  the  cross;  and  he  who  treads  this 
ground  may  know  and  feel  that  he  is  in  a  place 
where  the  very  dust  is  hallowed. 

Strange  indeed  is  the  history  of  the  Coliseum, 
Here  it  was  that  the  monk  Telemachus,  indignant 
at  the  maintenance  of  bloody  gladiatorial  games  at 
a  time  when  Christianity  had  become  the  religion 
of  the  empire,  rushed  into  the  arena,  flung  himself 
between  tlie  swords  of  the  combatants,  and,  dying 
there,  wrought  out  by  this  glorious  act  of  self- 
sacrifice  the  doom  of  these  bloody  shows.  Here  it 
was  that  pilgrims  came,  looking  upon  this  mighty 
edifice  as  the  best  material  representative  of  that 
Rome  which  had  boen  called  the  Eternel  City. 
Among  these  pilgrims  were  Anglo  Saxons  from 
the  far-distant  isle  of  Angleland,  whose  impressions 
may  be  known  from  the  memorable  words,  — 

"While  stands  the  Coliseum,  Rome  shall  stand; 
When  falls  the  Coliseum,  Rome  shall  fall ; 
And  when  Rome  falls,  the  world !  " 

During  the  middle  ages  the  Coliseum  underwent 
strange   vicissitudes.     Rome  was   a  lawless    city 


THE  COLISEUM.  81 

then,  given  up  to  disorder  and  perpetual  internal 
warfare.  Tlie  Coliseum  was  turned  into  a  castle, 
and  an  imprognaMe  one  it  must  have  been.  So,  in 
tlie  course  of  ages,  war  and  time  did  much  to  wear 
it  a>vay,  and  lay  it  low.  After  all,  however,  these 
agents  did  not  do  so  much  as  the  hand  of  man  in 
more  peaceful  ages.  One  of  the  popes  turned  it 
into  a  powder  factory,  or,  rather,  tried  to,  and  in 
the  attempt  an  explosion  took  place,  which  was 
terribly  destructive.  Afterwards,  when  later  ages 
came,  it  was  used  as  a  stone  quarry.  The  Roman 
nobles  grew  more  refined,  and  sought  to  rear 
splendid  palaces.  Here  they  saw  material  all 
ready  for  tiieir  work ;  and  so  it  was  that  many  of 
the  most  magnificent  edifices  of  the  modern  city 
were  constructed  out  of  the  stones  of  the  Coliseum. 
The  walls  of  Rome  were  also  repaired  with  the 
stones  that  lay  here  so  conveniently  ;  for  these  im- 
mense blocks,  out  of  which  the  Coliseum  had  been 
constructed,  afforded  a  material  which  was  most 
inviting  for  such  a  purpose.  When  first  built,  all 
the  vast  blocks  of  stone  had  been  fastened  to- 
gether with  bronze  clamps.  In  the  course  of  ages 
every  one  of  these  was  detached  and  taken  away, 
with  the  exception  of  two,  which  are  now  shown 
to  the  visitor  as  curiosities. 

At  length,  however,  a   more    enlightened   ago 
came.     Interest  was  awakened  in  all   the   monu- 
ments of  the  past,  and  it  was  determined  to  put  a 
stop  to  further  encroachments  on  the  ancient  edi- 
6 


82  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

fices.  One  of  tlio  popes  made  a  law  prohibiting 
any  fuitlier  injury  being  done  ;  and  to  enforce  this 
law,  the  Coliseum  was  consecrated,  twelve  small 
chapels  and  a  cross  being  put  up  within  that  arena 
wherein  so  many  Christians  had  in  former  ages 
shed  their  blood,  and  laid  down  their  lives  for 
Christ.  Others  did  still  more.  Pope  Pius  VII.  did 
most  of  all,  and  finding  that  one  part  of  it  was 
threatening  to  fall,  he  reared  against  it  an  immense 
buttress,  which  is  very  conspicuous  in  all  the  pic- 
tures which  are  made  of  the  great  ruin.  Thus  it 
now  appears,  a  vast  ruin,  yet  on  one  sido  still 
showing  the  external  wall,  that  wall  which  was 
saved  from  further  loss  by  the  buttress  of  Pope 
Pius  VII.  From  that  side  wheie  the  wall  is  most 
perfect  one  gains  the  best  idea  of  the  appearance 
of  the  Coliseum  in  its  palmy  days. 

"  Arches  on  arches,  as  it  were  that  Rome, 
Collecting  the  chief  trophies  of  her  line, 
Would  build  up  all  her  triumphs  in  one  dome, 
Her  Coliseum  stands ;     .     .     .     . 
And  here  the  buzz  of  eager  nations  ran 
In  murmured  pity,  or  loud-roared  applause, 
As  man  was  slaughtered  by  his  fellow-man ; 
And  wherefore  slaughtered  ?  wherefore,  but  because 
Such  were  the  bloody  Circus'  genial  laws. 

•  •  •  •  • 

A  ruin,  yet  what  ruin  !     From  its  mass 
Walls,  palaces,  half  cities  ha'e  been  reared. 
Yet  oft  the  enormous  skeleton  ye  pass, 
And  marvel  where  the  spoil  could  have  appeared. 
Hath  it  indeed  been  plundered?  or  been  cleared? 


THE  COLISEUM.  88 

Alas  !  developed,  opens  the  decay  ! 
Wlien  the  colossal  fabric's  form  is  ncnred, 
It  will  not  hear  tlie  brightness  of  the  day, 
Which  streams  too  much  on  all  years,  man,  have  reft  away." 

Through  one  of  the  many  arches  of  tlio  lower 
story  they  entered  the  Coliseum,  and  soon  came  to 
the  arena.  Here  they  saw  the  full  extent  of  the 
desolation  which  ages  have  inflicted.  Much  re- 
mained, but  more  had  been  taken  away.  Yet,  on 
looking  around,  they  could  see  the  outline  of  the 
migiity  fabric,  and  the  ruins,  which  once  were 
seats  filled  with  thronging  myriads,  rising  in  a 
aeries  of  crumbling  walls  to  the  outer  edge.  Over 
these  grew  wild  grasses  and  wild  (lowers  of  many 
dillerent  kinds,  and  the  vast  amphitheatre,  which 
once  rang  with  the  shout  of  the  multitude,  now 
stood  before  them,  silent  and  sombre.  But  all 
around  them  spread  the  wide  arena,  the  circuit 
of  which  was  still  bounded  by  the  very  walls 
which  once  restrained  the  leap  of  the  tiger,  or 
were  dyed  red  with  the  life-blood  of  the  Christian 
martyr.  Nor  were  there  wanting  further  memo- 
rials of  the  latter ;  for  there,  in  the  very  cenlre  of 
this  arena,  arose  a  lofty  cross,  symbolizing  the  tri- 
umph of  that  religion  which  once  had  furnished  so 
many  martyrs  to  the  rnthlessness  of  persecution. 

It  was  with  varied  feelings  that  they  entered 
this  place.  Bob  i^'c  once  went  off  by  himself. 
Frank  also  went  off.  Clive  and  David  remained 
with  one  another,  while    Uncle   Moses,  who  was 


84  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

somewhat  fatigued,  walked  up  to  the  cross,  and 
seated  himself  on  the  stone  at  its  base.  Here  he 
rested  and  meditated  profoundly,  with  his  eyes 
roving  over  the  wide  circuit  of  the  ruin. 

David  and  Clive  together  walked  slowly  about. 
They  had  much  to  examine,  much  to  talk  about. 
'J'hey  went  about  the  whole  circuit  of  the  arena, 
peering  into  every  opening,  entering  into  every 
archway,  examining,  investigating,  wondering,  and 
conjecturing.  Those,  they  thought,  were  the  vomi- 
toria,  the  places  through  which  the  mighty  multi- 
tude had  entry  and  exit.  Those,  they  thought, 
might  be  the  vivaria,  tho  place  where  the  wild 
beasts  w^ere  kept  which  were  destined  for  the 
arena.  Other  places,  tliey  conjectured,  might  h.tve 
been  the  rooms  of  the  gladiators,  and  others,  iigain, 
the  cells  where  the  Christians  were  kept  until  tlie 
time  should  come  for  them  to  face  the  wild  beasts. 
They  engaged  in  several  earnest  discussions.  One 
was  about  certain  marks  in  the  archway,  which 
David  thought  were  intended  for  iron  gratings, 
while  Clive  contended  that  they  had  something  to 
do  with  flooding  the  arena.  Out  of  this  there 
arose  a  new  argument  on  the  subject  of  this  flood- 
ing of  the  arena,  in  which  each  of  them  showed 
all  the  knowledge  that  he  had  ever  gained,  together 
with  an  immense  amount  of  conjecture.  Then  fol- 
lowed further  arguments  about  the  various  kinds 
of  gladiatorial  fights,  and  the  probable  number  of 
those  who  were  killed  each  day,  followed  by  a  fresh 


THE  COLISEUM.  85 

argument  as  to  whether  the  Christians  actually 
fought,  or  allowed  themselves  to  be  slain  without 
resistance. 

At  length  they  worked  their  way  back  to  where 
Uncle  Muses  was  seated.  He  was  still  in  the  posi- 
tion in  which  they  had  left  him,  that  is  to  say, 
seated  upon  the  stone  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  with 
his  eyes  roving  in  a  meditative  way  upon  the  wide 
circuit  of  ruins. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  as  they  came  up,  "  do  ye  know 
I  ben  a  thinkin  that  thar's  ben  a  dreadful  waste  of 
stone  in  this  here  buildin?  It  was  a  kin  o'  show- 
place,  I  know,  a  sort  of  theayter,  an  all  that,  ony 
there  was  actool  fights  with  wild  beasts  an  with 
gelladytoors.  But  ony  look  an  see  !  What  on 
airth  was  the  use  of  all  this  here  stone  ?  Why 
couldn't  they  hev  done  with  wood  ?  or,  for  that 
matter,  with  canvas,  like  our  circuses  to  hum  ? 
Why,  I've  seen  circuses  whar  they  show  shows 
that's  as  good,  every  mite,  as  anythin  they  ever 
got  up  here.  An  why  they  should  go  to  work  an 
put  up  a  stone  edifice  like  this  hero  beats  me  !  It 
doos,  indeed  ! " 

"  Well,"  said  David,  ''  for  that  matter,  it  was  a 
canvas  tent,  after  all.  What  you  see  was  only  in- 
tended to  support  the  seats.  Wooden  seats  could 
hardly  have  supported  a  hundred  thousand  men. 
But  it  was  really  a  tent,  for  overhead  they  stretched 
an  immense  awning  on  cables,  and  that  awning  was 
far  bigger  than  any  ten  of  the  biggest  circuses 
that  you  ever  saw." 


86  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

''  Good  thunder  !  "  cried  Uncle  Moses.  "  Dew- 
tell  !  for  I  want  to  know." 

David  was  just  about  to  proceed,  and  give  Uncle 
Moses  a  full,  complete,  and  exhaustive  account  of 
the  ancient  Roman  amphitheatre,  when  he  was  sud- 
denly interrupted.  " 

The  interruption  came  in  the  shape  of  a  loud 
cry,  which  was  almost  like  a  scream,  and  staVtled 
these  three,  who  were  in  the  centre  of  the  arena,  to 
such  an  extent  that  they  all  looked  hurriedly  about 
in  every  possible  direction  to  see  what  the  cause 
might  be. 

For  some  tirne  they  saw  nothing;  but  at  length 
they  distinguished  a  figure  about  half  way  up  the 
incline  made  by  the  ruins  of  the  amphitheatre,  and 
the  figure  they  knew  to  be  Frank.  He  was  ges- 
ticulating w^ildly  and  uttering  shouts,  which,  in 
their  surprise  and  excitement,  they  scarcely  un- 
derstood. But  the  cries  and  the  gestures  made 
them  turn  their  eyes  farther  up  the  incline  in  the 
direction  in  which  Frank  seemed  to  be  looking  or 
pointing. 

Scarcely  had  they  done  this  than  they  saw  a 
sight  which  filled  them  with  horror,  and  made 
their  blood  run  cold  in  their  veins;  for  there,  upon 
the  topmost  elevation,  upon  the  very  summit  of 
the  incline,  upon  the  edge  of  the  outer  wall  itself, 
they  saw  another  figure,  which  they  knew  to  be 
Bob.  He  stood  there  with  his  arms  in  the  air, 
swaying  backward   and   forward,    and    trying   to 


IK' 


TERRIFIC    PERIL    OP  BOB.  87 

balance  himself.  It  was  from  liim  that  the  cry 
seemed  to  have  come  which  had  so  startled  them ; 
for,  as  they  looked,  another  cry  came,  and  yet  an- 
other. They  stood  rooted  to  the  spot.  They  gazed 
spell  bound,  paralyzed,  througli  utter  horror.  The 
awful  danger  of  Bob,  their  own  distance,  their  per- 
fect helplessness,  all  conspired  to  fill  them  with 
anguish,  and  to  stupefy  them  with  dread  of  som^ 
terrible  calamity.  And  so  they  stood,  and  stared ; 
and  Bob,  on  his  giddy' elevation,  swayed  backward 
and  forward,  and  swung  his  hands  wildly,  and 
tried  to  save  himself.  Long  indeed  it  seemed  to 
them,  but  after  all  it  was  but  for  a  few  moments. 
A  few  moments  only  it  lasted,  and  then  all  was 
over!  For  Bob,  suddenly  turning,  with  a  quick 
movement^  bowed  his  head,  and  then  —  vanished 
from  their  view  ! 

Uncle  Moses  gave  a  groan  of  anguish,  and  David 
and  Clive  stared  at  one  another  with  white  faces. 


88  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Frank  attempts  to  explore.  —  A  Moujitain  of  Ruins.  —  T/ie 
paved  IVay.  —  T/ie  Relic. —  The  fallen  Arches.  —  The 
Chasm.  —  Alarm  of  Frank.  —  His  Way  citt  off.  —  A  Re- 
treat. —  TJie  Effort  to  save  Dob.  —  A  toilsome  Ascent. — 
A  Severe  Strngf:;le.  —  The  Chasms  in  the  Way.  —  Sudden 
Interruption.  —  Amazing  Discovery.  —  A  Question  and 
a  Rebuke. 

N  entering  the  Coliseum,  Bob  had  gone  otF 
by  himself,  as  has  already  been  said.  The 
enthusiasm  of  David  and  Clive  had  not  been 
altogether  congenial  to  his  mind,  and  he  had  re- 
sponded to  their  somewhat  stilted  declamation  by 
a  little  mock  enthusiasm  of  his  own.  Of  this,  how- 
ever, he  had  grown  weary ;  and,  on  approaching 
the  Coliseum,  he  had  advanced  before  the  others, 
80  that  he  entered  it  first,  and  walked  at  once  across 
the  arena,  without  stopping  to  see  what  they  would 
do.  Walking  thus  straight  forward,  he  crossed  the 
arena,  and  reached  the  opposite  side.  Here  the  Avail 
of  the  enclosure  was  all  broken  down,  and  before 
him  rose  the  ruined  incline  where  once  had  been 
the  seats  of  the  spectators.  Over  these  ri  *ns  there 
seemed  an   easy  way  of  climbing  to   the  top,  and 


FEELING   OF  FRANK.  89 

Bob,  whose  climbing  instinct  was  strong,  at  onco 
resolved  to  ascend  as  far  as  he  could. 

Frank,  on  his  part,  had  not  felt  much  greater  in- 
terest than  Bob  in  the  classical  raptures  of  David 
and  Clive,  and,  like  Bob,  preferiod  aTi  active  search 
after  personal  adventures.     On  enteri.^g-  the  arena, 
therefore,  he  too  moved  away  apart  from  the  others. 
From  this,  it  must  not,  for  one  moment,  be  supposed 
that  Frank  was  indifferent  to  the  effect  of  the  stu- 
pendous ruin  before  him.  '  Indifferent  he  was  not; 
but  the  feeling  which  he  had  was  quite  difTcront 
from  those  which  David  and  Clive  were  so  voluble 
in  expressing.     His  feeling  was  more  earnest,  more 
natural,  and  altogether  less  sentimental,  less  arti- 
ficial.    Frank  was  not  a  bookish  boy,  nor  was  he 
much  of  a  student;  but  he  was  a  boy  of  fine,  fresh, 
ardent  temperament,  with  a    soul  that  was  fully 
alive  to  the  claims  of  all  that   is  solemn  or  ven- 
erable.     It  was  in  this  light  that  ho  viewed  the 
Coliseum.      It  seemed  to   him  the   most  solemn, 
the  most  melancholy,  the  most  pathetic,  and  at  the 
same  time  the  most  awe-inspiring  scene  upon  which 
his  eyes  had  ever  rested.     He  stood  midway  be- 
tween the  indifference  of  Bob  and  the  exaggerated 
sentimentalism  of  David  and  Clive ;  but  the  feel- 
ings which  animated  him  were  at  least  as  sincere, 
and  perhaps  somewhat  more  so,  than  those  of  the 
two  latter,  while  his  aversion  to  anytliing  which 
seemed    to   him   to   savor  of   affectation    was   at 
least  as  great  as  that  which  Bob  had  so  openly 
shown. 


93  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

For  this  reason  Frank  cliose  neither  to  accom- 
pany Bob,  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  to  remain  with 
David  and  Clivc.  The  one  was  altogetlier  too  in- 
di'ierent,  tlie  others  were  too  demonstrative.  And 
so  ho  wandered  away  by  himself,  to  look  with  his 
own  eyes  npon  this  mightiest  of  ruins,  to  traverse 
its  gigantic  fragments  alone,  and  feel,  in  solitude 
and  apart  from  the  others,  the  emotions  which 
might  be  produced  within  him  by  this  unequalled 
spectacle. 

And  i50  it  happened  that  while  Bob  went  straight 
across  the  arena  to  the  side  immediately  opposite 
the  point  of  entrance,  Frank  made  a  divergence  to 
the  right,  and  reached  the  wall  of  enclosure  at  a 
place  which  was  a  hundred  yards  or  so  distant  from 
the  place  where  Bob  began  to  ascend.  On  reach- 
ing this  place,  he  stood  for  a  while,  and  looked  up. 
There,  just  before  him,  arose  the  wide  extent  of 
ruins  where  once  myriads  had  found  seats.  The 
ages  had  done  their  work.  Time,  with  his  remorse- 
Jess  hand,  had  been  busy  ;  and  busier  still  had 
been  the  destroyii^g  hand  of  man.  It  looked  like 
the  ijide  of  a  mountain,  so  confused  and  so  irregular 
was  the  rocky  slope  over  which  his  eyes  wandered ; 
but  there  was  this  difference,  that  whereas  on  the 
Bide  of  a  mountain  the  stones  are  all  rough  and 
irregular,  here  they  were  all,  even  where  broken, 
marked  by  the  hand  of  man ;  all  bore  the  signs  of 
human  workmanship,  and  still  showed  some  traces 
of  what  they  once  might  have  been,  while  amid  the 


TFIK   ANCIENT   PASSAGE-WAY.  91 

mass  of  indistinguishublo  rubbish  there  appeared, 
at  regular  intervals,  certain  lines  of"  stone  wall, 
which  marked  the  general  divisions  in  the  rows  of 
seats,  ard  the  passages  by  which  each  division  had 
once  been  approached. 

The  place  which  Frank  had  reached  was  termi- 
nated by  a  atone  wall,  which  still  rose  to  the  height 
of  about  five  feet.  Like  Bob  he  felt  a  strong  desire 
to  ascend  to  the  ruined  seats,  and  see  what  might 
there  present  itself.  To  reach  them  was  not  so 
easy  ;  but  Frank  was  agile,  and  he  easily  scaled  the 
low,  ruined  wall,  and  began  the  ascent. 

As  he  advanced,  he  noticed  the  marks  that  Btill 
remained,  showing  the  ancient  divisions  of  the 
seats.  There  were  heaps  of  rubbisii  where  these 
seats  had  once  been ;  but  after  passing  over  a  space 
which  might  once  have  contained  about  ten  or 
twelve  rows  of  seats,  he  reached  a  pavement,  which 
indicated  the  ancient  passage-way  by  which  these 
seats  had  been  approached.  This  passage-way  ran 
all  round  the  amphitheatre,  and  separated  the  first 
tiers  of  seats,  which  were  nearest  the  arena,  from 
those  which  came  immediately  next  to  them.  The 
passage- wpy  was  about  six  feet  wide,  and  the  pave- 
ment at'this  place  was  still  good.  It  was  made  of 
bricks,  which  were  very  small,  each  one  being  about 
six  inches  long,  three  inches  wide,  and  three  quar. 
ters  of  an  inch  in  thickness.  These  were  set  on 
.  edge,  in  a  zigzag  fashion,  in  much  the  same  way 
that  some  of  our  sidewalk  brick  paN .  nents  are  now 


92  TUE  SEVEN   UILLS. 

laid.  These  bricka  wore  of  a  yellyvvisli  cluy,  oonio- 
thing  like  our  modern  fire-brick  ;  and  Prank,  tlioiigii 
by  no  means  so  ardent  a  relic-liunter  as  David  or 
Clive,  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  picking  up 
one,  wiiich  he  saw  lying  loose,  and  putting  it  in  his 
pocket. 

As  he  wandered  along,  ho  was  surprised  at  tiio 
number  and  variety  of  wild  grasses  and  wild  flow- 
ers which  he  encountered.  The  different  kinds  of 
vegetation  which  met  his  view  amazed  him,  as  in- 
deed it  has  amazed  every  observer.  It  has  been 
calculated  that  there  are  growing  on  the  Coliseum 
no  less  than  four  hundred  different  plants.  Frank 
pulled  many  of  these  which  were  most  attractive, 
and  put  them  in  his  pocket,  as  souvenirs  of  this  visit. 

Absorbed  in  these  innocent  occupations,  Frank 
continued  his  ascent,  slowly  and  leisurely,  until  at 
length  he  came  to  a  place  where  no  farther  progress 
was  possible.  It  looked  like  a  passage-way  that 
had  fallen  in;  for, though  this  was  the  place  where 
such  a  passage-way  might  be  expected,  there  was 
nothing  of  the  kind,  but  only  an  abyss,  some  fifty 
feet  deep,  the  bottom  of  which  was  filled  with 
stones  lid  rubbish.  It  was  only  six  feet  wide,  but 
the  opposite  side  was  higher  than  the  side  on  which 
he  was,  and  to  jump  across  it  was  not  possible.  It 
seemed  to  Frank  that  the  passage-way,  which  had 
been  supported  by  arches,  had  fallen  in,  leaving 
this  abyss  in  the  way  of  explorers.  About  fifty 
feet  to  the  right  it  seemed  uninjured,  and  there- 


ALARM    OP   FRANK.  93 

foro  ho  tlionglit  t]ii\t  the  ascont  might  yot  bo  con- 
tinued ;  but  tor  tlio  present  lie  chose  to  ataiul  liere, 
and  take  a  full  and  general  flurvey  of  the  scene. 

Standing  there,  he  looked  all  around.  The  im- 
mense circuit  now  appeared  before  his  eyes.  There 
were  the  stones  which  once  had  appeared  in  regu- 
liir  lines  of  seats,  but  now  they  rose  before  him  like 
a  wide-spread  scene  of  utter  ruin.  In  the  centre 
of  the  ncene  was  the  arena,  from  whose  midst  arose 
the  cross  before  mentioned.  At  the  foot  of  this  he 
saw  Uncle  Moses -seated,  while  not  far  away  were 
David  and  Clive.  Turning  his  eyes  in  another 
direction,  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a  solitary 
figure,  which  he  at  once  recognized  as  Bob.  Far 
up,  in  fact,  at  what  seemed  the  very  outermost 
edge,  Bob  was  standing.  His  back  was  turned 
towards  Frank,  and  he  seemed  to  be  looking  down. 
There  was  something  in  his  attitude  which  startled 
Frank  most  unpleasantly,  nnd  tilled  him  with  terror. 
For  Bob's  arms  were  swaying  upward  and  down- 
ward, and  his  form  was  swaying  backward  and 
forward,  as  though  he  was  trying  to  balance  him- 
self on  that  giddy  height  upon  which  he  had 
rashly  ventured. 

Frank's  eyes  were  riveted  upon  that  spot  where 
Bob  stood,  in  a  position  so  fearful,  and  in  an  atti- 
tude so  dangerous.  A  thrill  of  horror  shot  through 
him.  He  could  not  move,  he  could  not  speak. 
He  could  only  stand  still  and  look.  How  had  Bob 
ventured  there  ?     What  sort  of  a  place  was  it  on 


94  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

which  ho  was  tluis  standing?  Why  did  ho  not 
conio  l)ack  ?  Wliy  did  lio  wtand  there  thus  quiver- 
ing? and  trembling?     Wliy  did  ho  not  come  buck? 

These  were  Frank's  thoughts,  and  they  brought 
anguish  to  liis  soul. 

Perhaps  Bob  had  ventured  there,  and  couUl  not 
get  back.  Perhaps  behind  him  tliere  yawned  an 
abyss  like  that  which  ho  himself  ]  wd  encountered. 
But  before  him  there  must  yawn  another  abyss 
even  worse,  —  an  abyss  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet,  —  which  measures  the  distance  from  tlie  pave- 
ment below  to  the  top  of  that  outer  wall  on  the 
edge  of  which  Bob  seemed  to  be  standing.  There 
was  horror,  there  was  agony  in  the  thought.  For 
a  few  moments  Frank  stood  paralyzed  and  dumb ; 
then  he  broke  the  spell  that  had  been  cast  upon 
him,  and  gave  a  long,  loud  cry  —  a  cry  which  was 
more  like  a  yell,  or  a  shriek,  than  anything  else. 

Then  other  cries  burst  from  him,  which  this  time 
were  audible  words. 

"  Bob  !  0,  Bob  !  Lie  down  !  Lie  down  !  Hold 
on !  Bob  !  0,  Bob  1  Wait !  Pm  oming !  Lie 
down  I    Wait  I    Wait !    I'm  coming  !  " 

And  these  wero  the  cries  which  so  startled  those 
below  in  the  arena,  and  made  them  look  up. 

But  at  that  very  instant,  while  Frank  was  yet 
calling,  and  while  those  in  the  arena  were  yet  look- 
ing up,  Bob  swayed  backwards  and .  forwards,  and 
swung  his  arms  wildly,  and  seemed  to  be  trying  to 
save  himself.     But  if  such  was  his  endeavor,  that 


FllANK   TO   THE   RESCUE. 


95 


eiKloiivoi*  was  in  vfiin ;  for  Biiddcnly  turning  witli 
a  quick  movement,  Iio  bowed  Iiis  hciid,  and  then 
vanished  iVoni  tlio  view  of  those  who  wore  loo'-'ug 
at  iiim  with  such  agony  of  fear. 

For  a  moment  Frank  stood  still,  and  then  ruslied 
olVwihlly.  In  his  haste  and  his  anguish  of  n)ind, 
he  remembered  the  place  where  the  patliway  was 
not  yet  broken  down;  and  hero  he  hurried,  ao  as 
to  cross  over  the  chasm,  feeling  certain  that  tiiis 
would  bri!)g  hiin  to  liob  quicker  than  any  other 
way.  In  a  few  moments  he  reached  this  place,  and 
found  the  archway  uninjured,  as  he  had  supposed. 
Crossing  over  here,  he  came  to  the  ruins  of  that 
tier  of  seats  which  rose  above.  Over  these  ruins 
he  hurried,  making  as  straight  a  coursr3  as  possible, 
for  Bob.  It  was  a  rough  and  a  dangerous  place, 
i Several  times  he  was  driven  back  by  great  open- 
ings in  the  way,  which  showed  yav/ning  chasms, 
produced  by  fallen  arches;  but  in  spite  of  all  tin's 
[he  hurried  onward,  with  the  one  idea  in  his  mind, 
jithcr  to  save  Bob  before  it  might  be  too  late,  or 
5lse  to  know  the  worst  as  soon  as  possible.  The 
issurance  which  he  had  that  in  any  event  some 
[read  calamity  had  taken  place,  only  served  to 
lasten  his  movements,  and  to  quicken  his  energies; 
jnd  so  it  was  that  in  a  wonderfully  short  space  of 
|me  he  had  traversed  at  least  three  quarters  of  the 
)ace  that  separated  him  from  Bob. 
But  now,  when  he  had  traversed  all  this,  and 
lat  too  at  no  slight  risk,  he  suddenly  found  all 


9G  THE   SEVEN    TITLLS. 

farther  progress  in  this  direction  absolutely  shut 
off  and  barred  by  an  insuperable  obstacle.  For  he 
had  reached  one  of  those  passage-ways  which  ran 
round  the  entire  circuit  of  the  amphitheatre  near 
the  top.  It  was  not  the  highest  one  of  all,  but  it  was 
next  to  it.  Now,  at  the  place  where  he  had  come, 
all  this  had  fallen  in  ;  and  here,  instead  of  a  passage- 
way, there  yawned  an  abyss,  so  deep  that  the  sight 
made  him  giddy,  so  wide  that  to  overleap  it  was 
utterly  impossible.  At  first  he  was  in  no  way  dis- 
mayed, but  made  the  best  of  his  way  along  the 
edge,  hoping  to  find  some  place  where  he  might 
cross.  In  this  hope  he  went  on  for  about  a  hun- 
dred yards,  when  all  hope  was  suddenly  taken  from 
him.  For  there  he  came  to  anotlier  chasm,  which 
was  as  wide  and  as  deep  as  this  one,  and  from 
which  he  could  only  recoil  in  dismay.  This  chasm 
was  formed  by  the  ruin  of  another  passage-way 
—  away  which  once  had  led  up  the  incline  from 
the  lower  seats  to  the  higher,  and  which  had,  no 
doubt,  originally  been  formed  by  means  of  steps ; 
but  t]iQ  steps  were  obliterated,  all  had  gone,  and  in 
place  of  the  ancient  stairway  a  chasm  yawned,  and 
there  was  no  resource  but  to  go  back,  and  find 
some  way  by  which  it  could  be  crossed. 

So  Frank  retreated,  and  descended,  once  more 
going  down  to  the  arena.  There  was  no  crossing- 
place  to  be  seen,  and  he  was  forced  to  descend  ail 
the  way,  even  to  the  arena  itself.  But  before  he 
reached  that  place,  he  was  joined  by  David  and 


THE   EFFORT   TO   SAVE   BOB.  97 

Clive,  who,  full  of  fear,  had  started  off  to  save  Bob, 
and  in  order  to  do  this,  had  set  out  with  the  inten- 
tion of  following  Frank.  They  thus  met  halfway, 
Frank  descending,  they  ascending.  A  few  hurried 
words  explained  all,  and  they  all  descended  to  the 
arena  together. 

Here  Frank  made  a  hasty  survey  and  a  rapid 
calculation.  He  marked  the  spot  where  Bob  had 
vanished,  and  calculated,  or  tried  to  calculate,  the 
point  from  which  he  had  started  in  order  to  reach 
this  place.  He  remembered  the  direction  which 
Bob  had  tal<^n,  and  the  distance  which  separated 
the  point  from  which  he  had  begun  the  ascent  from 
\^  own  starting-place.  Towards  this  he  hurried, 
followed  by  David  and  Clive.  Uncle  Moses  also 
followed.  They  all  went  in  silence.  The  anxiety 
of  all  was  too  deep  to  allow  of  a  word  being  uttered. 
All  had  the  same  fear — a  fear,  indeed,  so  strong, 
that  it  amounted  to  a  conviction  that  Bob  was  lost, 
and  did  not  permit  expression. 

Thus  they  went,  in  silence  and  in  fear.  Frank 
reached  the  place  first,  and  hurried  up  over  the 
ruins  in  as  straight  a  line  as  possible.  Clivo  fol- 
lowed after  him.  Behind  him  came  David  ;  while 
Uncle  Moses  toiled  onward  and  upward,  slowly  and 
painfull}'^,  the  last  of  all,  but  not  the  least  anxious 
of  all,  or  the  least  despairing. 

At  length,  after  they  had  traversed  about  half 
the  way,  they  came  to  an  abyss  like  those  which 
had  already  interfered  with  Frank's  progress.  H<3, 
^    7 


98  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

being  first,  first  reached  this.  He  turned,  and 
hastily  telling  Clive,  who  was  nearest,  to  go  olf 
towards  the  right  in  search  of  a  way,  he  himself 
went  over  towards  the  left.  After  running  along 
for  about  fifty  yards,  he  came  to  a  broken  arch, 
which  spanned  the  chasm,  and  afforded  sufficient 
foothold.  Over  this  he  hurried,  and  directed  liis 
course  towards  the  place  of  Bob's  disappearance. 
But  Clive,  though  at  first  somewhat  behind  him, 
had  found  a  place  by  which  to  cross  the  chasm 
sooner  than  Frank,  and  was  now  ahead,  hurrying 
upward.  David  and  Frank"  wore  now  about  on  a 
line,'  while  Uncle  Moses  was  far  behind  all  of  them. 

Onward  they  hastened,  and  still  onward  —  on- 
ward and  upward.  Another  chasm  was  met  with, 
but  this  was  surmounted,  like  the  last  one,  by  both 
parties  taking  different  ways.  The  result  of  this 
divergence  put  Frank  once  more  ahead  of  Clive 
and  David.  But  in  a  race  like  this  there  was  too 
much  grief  and  anxiety  for  any  one  to  be  conscious 
of  any  feeling  of  triumph,  and  Frank,  though  ahead 
of  the  others,  was  scarcely  conscious  of  it,  as  he 
had  scarce  been  conscious  of  being  behind  them. 

And  now  Frank  was  within  a  short  distance  of 
the  top,  —  the  outer  wall  was  close  by  ;  about  fifty 
yards  to  the  right,  Clive  and  David  were  hastening 
upward ;  a  few  steps  more  would  bring  them  all 
there  —  to  the  very  spot  where  Bob  had  dis- 
appeared ;  when  suddenly  there  came  a  cry  —  an 
astounding,  an  amazing  cry  ! 


AMAZING  DI&COVERY.  99 

"  Hi  —  hi    yah  I      Hallo,  there.      What's  up'? 

Hallo  ! " 

It  was  Bob's  own  voice  1 

In  an  instant  all  three  stopped  short,  as  though 
they  had  been  shot.  They  turned  and  stared 
wildly  in  the  direction  where  the  voice  had 
sounded. 

And  there,  unharmed,  unchanged,  as  lively,  as 
active,  as  cool,  and  as  natural  as  ever,  they  beheld 
no  less  a  person  than  Bob  himself.  He  was  ad- 
vancing towards  them  from  the  left.  Astonishment 
was  in  his  face,  and  he  was  evidently  surprised  at 
the  sight  which  had  met  his  eyes  —  the  sight  of 
Frank,  Clive,  and  David  rushing  up  the  incline, 
with  Uncle  Moses  toihng  far  in  the  rear. 

In  a  few  moments  Bob  reached  his  friends,  who 
surrounded  him,  and  overwhelmed  him  with  ques- 
tions and  with  reproaches. 

The  reproaches  Bob  disclaimed,  the  questions  he 
answered  most  fully  and  most  satisfactorily. 

After  hearing  everything  that  they  had  to  say, 
he  quietly  led  them  up  about  a  dozen  paces  farther. 
Here  they  saw  what  seemed  like  a  fallen  passage- 
way ;  but  the  chasm  which  was  made  showed  no 
such  depth  as  was  presented  by  the  others  that 
they  hetd  encountered.  This  upper  passage-way, 
which  at  this  place  had  fallen  in,  was  about  twenty 
feet  in  width;  but  it  seemed  as  though  there  were 
other  vaulted  passage-ways  beneath,  for  when  this 
had  fallen  there  was  no  abyss  disclosed.     The  lower 


1 


100  THE  S37Ex^  HILLS. 

arclics  had  sustained  the  fallen  mass,  and  the  depth 
was  but  trifling,  being  only  a  few  feet. 

"  The  fact  is/'  said  Bob,  "  Frank  got  frightened. 
He  always  seems  to  think  that  I  am  a  baby,  you 
know  He  gave  a  yell,  as  he  says,  and  that's  what 
started  you.  But,  in  reality,  there  was  no  danger, 
or  anything  like  it.  I  came  up  and  got  to  this 
place.  I  balanced  myself  for  a  few  moments,  so  as 
to  jump  down  in  a  good  place.  I  swung  my  arms, 
I  dare  say,  rather  vigorously,  but  without  the 
slightest  idea  of  any  danger  for  myself,  or  of  any 
trouble  for  you  fellows.  I  merely  wanted  to  jump 
down.  And  I  did  jump  down — just  there  —  and 
a  vejy  moderate  jump  it  was.  Well,  after  I  jumped 
down,  I  went  along  over  all  that  rubbish  for  ever 
so  far,  trying  to  find  some  way  to  the  outside  wall ; 
but  I  couldn't  find  any,  and  so  I  came  back  up  the 
inside  wall,  and  found  you  all  like  a  parcel  of  luna- 
tics. And  there's  poor  Uncle  Moses,  toiling  along 
up  here  over  those  stones.  It's  natural  enough  for 
him  to  worry  about  me,  for  he's  got  into  the  habit 
of  it ;  but  as  for  you,  boys,  don't  you  think  you've 
been  and  gone  and  made  fools  of  yourselves  ? 
Eather." 

To  this  the  boys  had  nothing  to  say ;  and  as 
silence  gives  consent,  it  may  be  supposed  that 
they  all  agreed  with  the  idea  expressed  in  B  b's 
question. 


VISIT  TO  THE   RUINS.  101 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

The  Ruins  of  Rome.— The  Arch  of  Co}ista?ttine.—  The 
Baths  of  Titus.  —  The  Circus  Maximus.  —  Where  Han- 
nibaVs  Camp  stood.  —  Where  Numa  had  Interviews  'u/ith 
Egeria.  —  The  stern  round  Toxver  of  other  Days.  —  The 
ancient  Cathedral.  —  The  subterranean  World.  —  Its 
Origin.  — Its  Extent.  —  Its  Meaning. 

M^^HE   adventure   at  the  Coliseum  thus  fortu- 

fnately  terminated  in,  nothing  worse  than  a 
^  painful  fright.  Uncle  Moses  looked  very 
much  as  if  he  would  like  to  make  a  speech  to  Bob 
on  the  spot ;  but  as  Bob  had  clearly  done  no  wrong 
and  suffered  no  harm,  he  did  not  know  very  well 
how  to  begin.  The  speech,  therefore,  was  not 
forthcoming. 

The  greater  part  of  the  day  was  yet  before 
them,  and  it  was  now  proposed  to  make  a  general 
examination  of  the  ruins  of  Rome,  and  end  the  day 
with  a  visit  to  the  Catacombs  —  a.'  place  in  which 
they  all  felt  the  deepest  possible  interest,  as  being 
at  once  the  sacred  resting-place  of  the  ancient 
Christian  dead,  and  also  in  itself  full  of  wonders, 
and  surrounded  with  associations  of  a  strange  and 


102  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

awful  cliaracter.  "With  this  intention,  therefore, 
they  left  the  Coliseum,  and  proceeded  on  tlieirway. 
They  had  not  gone  far  before  tliey  came  to  a 
lofty,  triumphal  arch,  which  spanned  the  road.  By 
the  inscription  upon  it,  as  well  as  by  their  map, 
they  knew  that  this  was  the  Arch  of  Constantino. 
Around  this  were  many  objects  of  interest.  In  one 
direction  were  tlie  ruins  of  the  Baths  of  Titus;  in 
another  those  of  Caracalla,  which,  next  to  the  Col- 
iseum, form  the  most  imposing  and  extensive  ruins 
in  Rome.  These  last  surpassed  all  others  of  the 
same  kind  in  magnificence  ;  and  the  splendor  of 
Roman  palaces  and  Roman  churches  is  largely  due 
to  the  precious  marbles  taken  from  this  place.  In 
another  direction  they  fonnd  the  Circus  Maximus, 
or,  rather,  the  place  where  it  once  stood.  It  was 
one  of  the  largest  edifices  in  ancient  Rome.  Be- 
gun during  the  reign  of  the  Roman  kings,  it  in- 
creased in  size  and  splendor  during  the  republic 
and  empire,  and  received  additions  as  late  as  the 
time  of  Constantino,  when  it  was  capable  of  hold- 
ing four  hundred  thousand  people.  Of  this  great 
edifice  scarce  a  vestige  now  remains.  Near  it  can 
be  seen  one  of  the  oldest,  if  not  the  very  oldest, 
of  Roman  monunients,  the  Cloaca  Maxima.  This 
was  the  principal  sewer  of  the  city,  and  was  con- 
structed during  the  time  of  the  Roman  kings. 
Originally  it  was  about  twelve  feet  wide  and 
twenty-four  feet  high.  In  the  days  of  Pliny  it 
had  partly  filled  up ;    but  he  speaks  of  it  as  the 


TOMB  OP  THE  SCIPIOS.  103 

greatest  antiquity  in  the  city,  and  as  aflbrding 
room  for  a  cart  loaded  with  hay  to  traverse  it. 
Since  then  it  has  gradually  been  choking  up  until 
tlie  present  time,  when  it  is  not  more  than  six  feet 
high.  But  of  all  the  antiquities  of  Rome  none  are 
surrounded  with  greater  interest  than  this,  since 
it  carries  the  mind  of  the  beholder  back  to  the  far- 
thest past ;  while  the  vast  size  of  the  stones  c^ut . 
of  which  it  is  constructed  conveys  a  profound  im- 
pression of  the  grandeur  of  the  city  even  in  those 
early  ages. 

Their  way  led  them  through  the  i^ppian  Gate. 
Here  they  saw  the  Arch  of  Drusus,  the  first  tri- 
umphal arch  erected  at  Rome.  Near  it  was  a  more 
interesting  monument,  the  Tomb  of  the  Scipios. 
It  was  like  other  tombs,  the  walls  being  honey- 
combed with  niches  for  the  reception  of  urns  with 
the  ashes  of  the  dead.  All  these,  however,  are 
gone.  When  the  tomb  was  discovered,  a  sarcopha- 
gus, or  stone  coffin,  was  found,  which  was  removed 
to  the  Vatican  Museum  ;  and  so 

"  The  Scipios'  tomb  contains  nc  ashes  now.  . 
The  very  sepulchres  lie  tenantless 
Of  their  heroic  dwellers." 

Along  this  way  they  walked,  and  found  them- 
selves on  an  ancient  pavement,  Nvhich  they  soon 
learned  to  be  no  other  than  the  famous  Appian 
Way.  The  pavement  consisted  of  great  blocks  of 
dark-colored  stone,  of  irregular   shape,  but   very 


104  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

neatly  fitted  together.  It  was  built  313  before 
Christ,  by  Appius  Claudius  Crassus,  and  was  after- 
wards extended  to  Brundusium.  It  was  the  most 
celebrated  of  all  the  Roman  roads,  and  is  men- 
tioned by  Horace  in  a  well-known  satire,  and  by 
the  writer  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles. 

As  they  went  on  they  saw  on  either  side  Roman 
tojiibs,  and  the  sight  reminded  them  very  strongly 
of  the  street  of  tombs  at  Pompeii.  These  had  the 
same  general  character  as  the  Pompeian  tombs, 
but  they  were  very  much  larger. 

After  about  a  mile  they  came  to  a  little  temple, 
upon  which  they  looked  with  deep  interest,  for  it 
stood  on  the  spot  where  Hannibal's  camp  is  said 
to  have  been  pitched,  on  the  occasion  when  lie 
inarched  to  Rome,  and  menaced  an  attack,  which 
threat  tlie  Romans  met  by  calmly  selling  at  auc- 
tion the  very  field  which  he  was  occupying. 

Near  this  is  what  is  called  the  Grotto  of  Egeria. 
It  is  a  beautiful  place  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  and 
perpetuates  the  well-known  tradition  of  KingNuma 
holding  consultations  with  the  Goddess  Egeria. 
There  are  on  the  walls  six  empty  niches,  in  which 
statues  once  stood,  and  at  the  farthest  end  there  is 
a  recumbent  statue,  much  mutilated,  close  by 
which  the  water  of  some  neighboring  spring  pours, 
with  a  gentle,  bubbling  murmuring  sound,  into  the 
grotto, and  flows  on  through  its  entire  length  out  into 
the  open  field.  Here  they  all  sat  down  and  rested, 
taking  occasion  also  to  eat  some  luncheon,  which 


TOMB  OF  THE  SCIPIOS.  106 

they  had  been  wis©  enough  to  bring  with  them. 
The  phico  seemed  to  them  to  be  the  most  beautiful 
wliich  they  had  Ibnnd  in  It'ily;  and  no  remon- 
strance was  made  when  Clive  quoted  Byron  in  his 
usual  enthusiastic  style  :  — 


v\ 


*'  The  mosses  of  thy  fountain  still  are  sprinkled 
With  tliine  El ysian  water-drops ;  the  face 
Of  tliy  cave-guarded  sprint?,  with  years  unwrinkled, 
*'t'   lleHects  tlie  meek-eyed  genius  of  the  place, 
Whose  green,  wild  margin  now  no  more  efTace 
Art's  works ;  nor  must  the  delicate  \,'atcrs  sleep 
Prisoned  in  marble,  bubbling  from  the  base 
Of  the  cleft  statue,  with  a  gentle  leap 
The  rill  runs  o'er,  and  round  fern  flowers  and  ivy  creep." 

Leaving  this  beautiful  spot,  they  went  on,  and 
soon  came  to  a  gigantic  tomb,  wliich  in  size  and 
massiveness  might  compare  with  the  Pyramids  of 
Egypt.  It  was  one  of  the  most  perfect  antiquities 
which  they  had  found  thus  far.  Their  guide-book 
informed  them  that  it  was  tlie  Tomb  of  Ciecilia  Metel- 
la,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  Rome. 
It  is  seventy-five  feet  in  diameter,  and  about  as 
much  in  height.  It  is  circular  in  shape,  and  is  al- 
most solid,  for  it  only  contains  one  small  chamber 
in  the  middle,  about  fifteen  feet  in  diameter,  which 
is  approached  by  a  narrow  passp.ge-way.  In  this 
small  room  a  sarcophagus  was  found,  which  was 
taken  away  and  deposited  elsewhere. 

Tliis  great  tomb  was  destined  to  have  a  career 
like  tl.at  of  the  Coliseum,  only  less  ruinous.     Dnr- 


106  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

ing  the  stormy  mirldle  ages  it  was  transformed  into 
a  castle,  and  endured  sieges  without  number.  At 
the  present  day  the  battlements  on  the  summit 
form  not  the  least  conspicuous  feature  about  it. 

"Thorc  is  a  stern  round  tower  of  other  days, 
rirm  as  a  fortress  with  its  fence  of  stone, 
Such  as  an  army's  bafllcd  strengtii  dehiys, 
Standing  with  half  its  battlements  alone, 
•';  *       And  with  two  thousand  years  of  ivy  grown; 
Tlie  garland  of  eternity,  where  wave 
The  green  leaves  over  all  by  Time  o'erthrown. 
What  was  this  tower  of  strength?     Witiiin  its  cave 
"What  treasure  lay  so  locked,  so  hid?     A  woman's  grave. 

*'  Perchance  she  died  in  youth ;  it  may  be,  bowed 
"With  woes  far  heavier  than  the  ponderous  tomb 
That  weighed  upon  her  gentle  dust;  a  cloud 
Might  gather  o'er  her  beauty,  and  a  gloom 
In  her  dark  eye  prophetic  of  the  doom 
Heaven  gives  its  favorites  —  early  death ;  yet  shed 
A  sunset  charm  around  her,  and  illume 
With  hectic  light  the  Hesperus  of  the  dead. 

Of  her  consuming  cheek  the  autumnal  leaf-like  red. 

"  Perchance  she  died  in  age, 'surviving  all, 
Charms,  kindred,  chii,.  en,  with  the  silver  gray 
On  her  long  tresses,  which  might  yet  recall, 
It  may  be,  still  a  something  of  the  day 
When  they  were  braided,  and  her  proud  array 
And  lovely  form  were  envied,  praised,  and  eyed 
By  Rome.     But  whither  would  conjecture  stray? 
This  much  alone  we  know  —  Metella  died 

The  wealthiest  Roman's  wife.     Behold  his  love,  or  pride  1  " 

There  are  many  magnificent  tombs  in  Rome,  and 
four  are  of  giant  size.     The  largest  of  all  is  the 


Bi> SILICA   OF   ST.   SEBASTIAN.  107 

Mausoleum  of  Hadrian,  which  is  now  tho  Castlo 
of  St.  Angelo.  Tho  next  in  size  is  tho  i*.!Liuaoleum 
of  Augustus,  which  in  tho  middle  ages  was  a  cas- 
tle, but  of  late  has  been  used  as  a  circus.  This 
tomb  of  Ciucilia  Motella  is  third  in  size.  All  three 
of  these  are  alike,  being  circular  in  shape,  and  con- 
structed out  of  enormous  blocks  of  stono,  being 
also  ahnoat  solid,  with  a  small  chamber  in  tho  cen- 
tre. The  fourth  of  these  great  tombs  is  that  of 
Cuius  Cestius.  It  is  shaped  like  a  pyramid  after 
the  Egyptian  fashion,  and  is  the  only  structure  of 
that  kind  in  the  city.  It  is  covered  with  polished 
marble  that  once  was  white,  but  now  is  blackened 
with  age. 

Turning  away  from  the  tomb  of  Ca3cilia  Metella, 
the  party  resumed  their  progress,  and  not  very 
long  after  arrived  at  an  ancient  cathedral,  called 
the  BasiHca  of  St.  Sebastian.  It  was  originally  a 
Roman  law  court,  but  was  one  of  those  edifices 
which  were  handed  over  to  the  Christians  in  the 
days  of  the  Emperor  Constantino,  or  not  long  after. 
It  is  supposed  to  possess  the  bones  of  St.  Sebastian  ; 
and,  in  addition  to  this,  the  priests  of  this  church 
claim  to  possess  the  real  bones  of  St.  Peter  and  St. 
Paul;  but,  as  these  are  claimed  elsewhere,  and  as 
the  mighty  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  is  supposed  to 
be  erected  over  the  tomb  of  the  great  apostle,  and 
as  that  of  St.  Paul's,  in  Rome,  is  also  supposed  to 
be  erected  over  the  tomb  of  the  apostle  of  that 
name,  the  claims  of  the  priests  of  the  Cathedral  of 


108  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

St.  Sebastian  need  not  receive  any  very  particular 
attention. 

But  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Sebastian  owes  its  chief 
fiimo  and  its  greatest  attraction  to  the  fact  that 
underneath  it  are  found,  not  the  doubtful  relics  of 
a  single  martyr,  but  rather  the  certain  relics  of 
countless  Christian  dead,  among  which  may  be 
found  the  dust  of  thousands  of  those  who  laid 
down  their  lives  lor  Christ  in  the  days  of  pagan 
persecution.  Here,  in  a  word,  is  the  entrance  to 
the  far-famed  Catacombs  of  Rome. 

The  origin  of  the  lloman  catacombs  is  a  disputed 
point ;  but  it  is  now  commonly  supposed  that  they 
were  formed  for  the  purpose  of  tho  burial  of  the 
dead,  and  in  tho  course  of  ages  grew  to  their  pres- 
ent dimensions.  It  is  also  believed  !>y  many  that 
they  were  formed  chiefly,  if  not  altogether,  for  the 
reception  of  the  Christian  dead.  It  was  supposed 
at  one  time  that  they  were  originally  excavated  for 
the  purpose  of  obtaining  the  peculiar  sand  known 
as  Roman  cement ;  but  this  theory  is  now  given  up 
on  account  of  the  simple  fact  th.at  no  such  sand 
exists  here,  or  could  ever  have  been  obtained  here. 
It  is  found  in  a  different  soil  altogether.  For  these 
excavations  are  made  in  a  soft  sandstone  that  un- 
lies  the  city,  a  material  that  has  notliing  to  do  with 
Roman  cement ;  and  the  only  wonder  is,  that  the 
idea  was  ever  started,  or  that,  having  been  started, 
it  should  have  prevailed  so  long  without  having 
been  disproved. 


TIIK   CATACOMBS.  109 

Tlioro  is  also  another  mistakon  idoa  wliirli  was 
formorly  associated  witli  tlio  Roman  Catacombs,  and 
still  prevails  to  a  certain  extent.  It  is,  tliat  they 
foriu  one  connected  array  of  labyrinthine  passages; 
and  as  such  passages  are  found  in  many  different 
places,  it  has  been  stated,  and  believed,  that  they 
cover  an  area  of  about  twenty  square  miles  under 
ground,  and  pass  under  tlio  Tiber,  and  extend  oven 
as  far  away  as  the  shore  of  the  Mediterranean. 
This  extravagant  idea,  however,  has  been  destroyed 
by  recent  observations,  which  havo  established  the 
fact  that  the  Roman  Catacombs  do  not  form  one 
great  whole,  but  consist,  rather,  of  detached  and 
isolated  groups  of  passages.  One  of  these  isohited 
groups  is  found  in  the  Catacombs  under  the  Cathe- 
dral of  St.  Sebastian,  known  as  the  Catacombs  of 
St.  Callistus.  The  entrance  to  these  Catacombs  is 
made  from  this  cathedral ;  but  their  extent  is  far 
beyond  the  bounds  of  this  edifice.  The  Catacombs 
of  St.  Callistus  have  been  thoroughly  explored,  and 
an  end  has  been  found  to  them  ;  so  that  ''^-^  theory 
of  labyrinthine  passages,  of  almost  illimitable  ex- 
tent, has  l^eon  given  up.  If  groups  of  Cataco  nba 
exist  elsewhere,  it  is  now  known  that  they  have  no 
connection  with  the  Catacombs  of  St.  Callistus,  or 
with  one  another. 

Regarding  the  Catacombs  even  from  this  limited 
point  of  view,  however,  and  even  when  wo  know 
that  one  group  has  been  thoroughly  explored,  they 


110  THE  SEVEN  HILL3. 

Btill  remain  snfficiently  bewildering.  The  passages 
are  so  numerous,  so  irregular,  and  so  complicated, 
that  the  stranger  cannot  avt^id  experiencing  a  feel- 
ing of  uneasiness  while  traversing  them.  Besides,  i 
fearful  accidents  have  happened  here,  and  tales  are 
told  of  rash  explorers  who  have  lost  their  way,  and! 
wandered  off  in  darkness,  and  in  horror,  and  in 
starvation,  to  meet  the  doom  of  a  lingering  and 
agonizing  death. 

The  Catacombs  of  St.  Callistus  are  those  which 
have  been  most  explored,  and  are  best  known  to 
the  world.  Here  the  archseologist  and  the  Chris- 
tian have  penetrated,  and  have  borne  away  the 
hallowed  relics  of  Christian  dead.  There  is  a 
place  in  Rome,  the  Lapidarian  Gallery,  in  the  Vati- 
can Palace,  where  these  Christian  relics  have  been 
transferred  and  treasured  up  with  pious  care ;  and 
here  the  traveller,  as  he  passes  along  the  great  ex- 
tent of  that  gallery,  may  see  the  walls  for  a  thou- 
sand feet  covered  over  with  the  slabs  that  once 
shut  in  the  Christian  tombs.  Upon  these  are  the 
inscriptions  exhibiting  the  expression  of  that 
Christian  faith  and  hope  beyond  the  grave,  which, 
in  the  darkness  of  Roman  paganism,  glowed  with 
BO  viivine  a  lustre,  and  shed  abroad  the  light  of 
immortal  life.  Nowhere  in  all  the  world  is  there 
a  more  sublime  monument  to  the  sainted  dead  than 
this  collection  of  Christian  epitaphs  ;  and  nowhere 
can  one  behold  such  irresistible  evidences  of  the 


CHRISTIAN   EPITAPHS.  Ill 


Igl 


•lity  power  of  Christianity  to  renovate  aiid  re- 
Mierate  the  soul  even  of  the  most  debased,  to 
irity  the  impure,  to  open  the  blind  eyes,  and  to 
ad  men  out  of  the  lowest  depths  of  heathenism, 
d  point  them  the  way  to  the  heaven  of 
)avens. 


J1 


I  ." 


112  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  ancient  Cathedral.  —  The  Guide.  —  The  Stairway.  — 
The  Descent.  — A  chill  Blast  of  Air.  —  The  City  of  the 
Dead.  —  The  underground  World.  —  The  countless 
Graves.  —  The  labyrinthine  Passages.  —  The  great  black 
Cross.  —  A  tortuoiis  Path.  —  The  early  Christians.  — 
Danger  lurking  on  every  Side.  —  Keep  close  together.  — 
The  blocked-up  Passages.  —  The  warning  Stones.  —  The 
Chapel  under  Ground. 

^y|^^HE  Cathedral  of  St.  Sebastian  possessed  all 
Jv(?     that  magnificence  which  distinguishes  the 


4»^  churches  of  Rorae.  A  pavement  of  polished 
marble  was  under  their  feet ;  overhead  was  a  roof 
of  open  panel-work,  where  the  panels  were  painted 
so  as  to  represent  Scripture  scenes,  and  the  cross- 
beams were  covered  with  gilding.  The  walls  were 
overlaid  with  verd  antique,  lapis  lazuli,  and  other 
precious  marbles.  The  higli  altar  was  ablaze 
with  gold  and  precious  stones.  The  shrine  of 
the  saint  was  a  masterpiece  of  art.  Noble  paint- 
ings appeared  over  the  altars  in  the  side  chapels, 
Avhile  on  every  side  they  beheld  the  sculptured 
forms  of  apostles,  saints,  and  martyrs,  as  they 
looked  down  upon  them  from  their  marble  nic'^  s. 


THE  GUIDE.  113 

After  they  bad  walked  about  the  cathedral  and 
surveyed  everything,  they  were  accosted  by  a 
priest,  who  asked  them,  in  somewhat  broken  Eng- 
lish, if  they  would  like  to  visit  the  Catacombs, 
informing  them,  at  the  same  time,  that  he  was  one 
of  the  guides,  and  would  be  happy  to  show  them 
the  place.  Of  course  they  all  answered  in  the 
affirmative;  whereupon  the  priest  asked  them  to 
wait  for  a  few  moments,  and  retired.  After  about 
five  minutes  he  returned  with  half  a  dozen  long 
tapers,  about  a  foot  long,  and  half  an  inch  thick. 
These,  he  informed  them,  were  used  to  light  the 
way  through  the  dark  passages.  Motioning,  then, 
for  them  to  follow,  he  led  the  way  to  a  door  on  the 
side  of  the  church.  On  passing  through  this  they 
saw  a  stairway.  The  priest  went  down  this,  and 
they  followed  for  some  distance.  At  length  they 
all  reached  the  bottom  of  the  descent,  and  sa\^ 
there  a  door.  The  priest  now  lighted  all  the 
tapers,  one  by  one,  and  gave  one  to  each  of  the 
party,  keeping  one  for  himself. 

He  then  opened  the  door  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  Nothing  but  utter  darkness  appeared  there; 
and  as  they  entered,  one  by  one,  there  was  a 
draught  of  chill,  damp  air,  which  swept  slowly 
through  the  doorway  from  the  place  below.  It  was 
like  the  air  in  a  dark  cellar.  The  priest  stood  till 
they  had  all  passed  through,  and  then,  closing  the 
door  very  carefully,  he  told  them  to  follow  him,  to 
hold  their  hands  before  the  flames  of  their  tapers, 
8 


114  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

and  to  keep  all  together.  All  of  which  seerned  to 
the  boys  to  be  words  of  warning,  words  too  full  of  a 
certain  dark  significance  as  to  the  possible  dangers 
that  awaited  the  heedless  visitor  in  these  labyrin- 
thine passages. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  suddenly,  — 
"I  don't  know;  I  railly  don't  know;''  and  with  a 
sickly  smile  he  drew  back,  as  though  about  to 
return. 

"  Don't  knowMvhat, Uncle  Moses?"  asked  Frank. 

"  Wal,  I'm  kine  o'  feard  about  this  here,"  said 
Uncle  Moses. 

"  Afraid  ?  "  said  Frank.  "  0,  nonsense  !  There's 
no  danger." 

"  No,  no ;  no  danjaire,"  said  the  priest,  "  only 
you  alia  kip  to  geddar." 

"  0,  it  ain't  that,"  said  Uncle  Moses.  "  It  ain't 
the  danger  of  bein  lost ;  it's  —  the  rheumatiz." 

"  Rheumatism  ?  "  said  Frank.  "  0,  there's  no 
danger  of  that  here.  Why,  the  air  is  delicious. 
It's  just  pleasantly  cool." 

Uncle  Moses  shook  his  head. 

"  0,  it's  all  very  well  for  you,  with  your  young, 
warm  blood,  to  talk  of  this  place  being  pleasantly 
cool,  but  my  old  blood's  different,  an  I  feel  a  kine 
of  a  dreadful  chill,  that  makes  my  poor  old  flesU 
kine  o'  crawl,  and  seems  to  strike  to  my  marrer." 

"  0,  that's  because  you've  been  standing  here 
waiting  for  the  tapers  to  be  lighted,"  said  Frank. 
"  We'll  walk  along  quick,  and  the  exercise'll  pre- 


THE   CATACOMBS.  115 

vent  you  from  taking  cold.  Don't  leave  us.  Como 
alonj^  u  h  us.  You'll  be  interested.  Come  along, 
Uncle  Moses." 

"  Wal,  it's  dreadful  resky,"  said  Uncle  Moses, 
"  an  I  don't  want  to  be  laid  up  with  the  rheumatiz 
here  in  Rome ;  but  paps  I'll  fight  it  off,  if  we  all 
walk  rail  smart ;  an  besides,  I  don't  altogether  like 
the  looks  of  this  place,  an  paps  I'd  better  keep 
nigh  you  for  a  time,  till  I  see  how  things  air." 

So  Uncle  Moses  finally  decided  to  accompany 
them ;  and  they  turned  to  follow  the  priest,  who  all 
this  while  had  been  waiting  very  patiently  the 
result  of  this  discussion. 

The  darkness  was  intense  and  utter  ;  the  flicker- 
ing light  of  the  half  dozen  slender  tapers  threw 
into  it  but  a  feeble  gleam ;  but  the  light,  faint 
though  it  was,  served  to  disclose  the  dim  shape 
and  surface  of  the  walls.  The  passage-way  was 
about  four  feet  in  width  and  six  in  height.  The 
walls  were  rough,  showing  marks  of  the  ex- 
cavator's tools.  The  stone  was  a  species  of  soft 
sandstone,  and  these  passages  had  been  cut  with- 
out any  very  great  trouble.  In  an  age  in  which 
gunpowder  was  unknown,  and  hydraulic  engines, 
and  drills  for  tunnelling,  it  was  only  the  softest 
rock  that  could  be  penetrated  in  this  way,  and  the 
tools  that  were  used  could  only  be  the  pickaxe  or 
the  chisel.  With  such  tools  as  these,  tlie  passages 
of  the  Catacombs  had  been  excavated,  as  was  evi- 
dent by  the  marks  still  visible  on  the  rocky  walls. 


116  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

Tlio  priest  headed  the  party,  holding  his  torch 
up  above  his  face,  yet  keeping  his  hand  before  the 
flame,  so  as  to  prevent  it  from  being  extinguished, 
or  from  flickering,  as  he  walked  along.  The  rest 
of  the  party  followed — Frank  first,  then  David, 
then  Clive,  then  Bob  ;  while  Unjple  Moses  brought 
up  the  rear,  being  animated  solely  by  the  desire  of 
keeping  a  sufficient  watch  and  guard  over  these  four 
precious  responsibilities  committed  to  his  charge. 
They  all  did  as  the  priest  told  them  ;  they  held 
their  hands  before  the  flame  of  their  torches,  and 
they  resolved  to  keep  together. 

At  first  the  walls  of  the  passage-way  on  either 
side  showed  nothing  but  the  rough  rock  with  the 
marks  of  the  excavator's  tools  still  visible.  But 
after  walking  about  fifty  paces,  a  change  took 
place,  which  at  once  showed  them  tliat  they  were 
really  and  truly  in  the  Catacombs.  The  walls  on 
either  side  showed  long  niches,  arranged  one  above 
the  other,  like  the  berths  of  a  ship,  which  berths 
they  resembled  not  only  in  arrangement,  but  also 
in  size.  These  niches  had  been  cut  in  the  rocky 
wall  on  either  side.  Each  one  was  about  six  feet 
long,  and  one  foot  in  height.  As  a  general  thing, 
there  wore  three,  one  above  another,  though  in 
several  places  there  were  four.  There  was  this 
irregularity  visible  in  other  respects,  for  not  only 
did  these  niches  thus  vary  with  regard  to  the 
number  of  excavations,  but  also  with'  regard  to 
size.     Some  were   much  smaller  than  others,  and 


* 


THE  CITY   OF  THE  DEAD.  117 

the  fact  explained  itself,  for  in  every  graveyard, 
even  as  in  the  Roman  Catacombs,  the  unequal 
length  of  the  grave  mounds  tells  the  observer  that 
children  as  well  as  men  must  go  down  to  the  tomb. 

The  guide  walked  on  for  some  distance,  and 
then  stopped. 

"  Dese,"  said  he,  "  are  do  graves.  Dey  are  all 
Christian.  Dey  are  de  graves  of  de  martyr. 
Dey  were  burn,  or  died  by  de  wild  beast,  in  de 
persecuzione.  You  see  de  leetle  grave  ;  dey  are  de 
grave  of  de  children.  All  martyr  —  all  martyr  — 
all  —  men,  women,  and  children." 

This  assertion  that  they  were  all  martyrs  who 
were  buried  here  is  the  common  belief  at  Rome, 
and  for  that  matter,  is  a  general  belief  even  out  of 
Rome  ;  but  it  has  no  founcjation  in  fact.     That  mar- 
tyrs were  buried  here  is  beyond  a  doubt,  but  that 
all  these  tombs  are  the  tombs  of  real  martyrs  is 
believed  by  no  one  who  knows  anything  about  the  . 
Catacombs.      The.  Christians    buried   their   dead 
here,  whether   they  died   on   their   beds,  or   laid  ^ 
down  their  lives  at  the  sentence  of  the  persecutor. 
These  dead  thus  include  all  classes,  all  sorts,  and 
all   ages   of  the   Christian  population   of  ancient 
Rome. 

"  What  are  these  marks  ?  "  asked  David,  point- 
ing to  some  marks  around  the  edge  of  a  niche 
which  he  had  been  cai^efully  examining.  • 

"  Dese  marks  ?  "  said  the  priest.  ",0,  dese  — 
dey  show  de  j  'ace  where  de  tablet  was  fastened." 


118  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

"The  tablet?" 

"  Yea ;  do  graves  had  all  a  tablet,  marble,  Avid 
de  inscripzione,  do  epetapha,  do  name  and  ago  of 
do  dead.  Dose  all  gone,  all  taken  av/ay  to  do 
Galleria  Lapidaria,  at  the  Palazzo  Vaticano." 

At  this  Bob  put  his  head  inside  of  one  of  the 
graves,  the  second  from  the  bottom,  Avhich  was 
about  on  a  level  with  his  breast.  He  held  his 
taper  in  so  as  to  see  what  was  there.  The  others 
also  all  peered  in.  Nothing,  however,  was  visible. 
There  were  no  bones  there,  only  a  little  dust,  from 
which  Bob  scraped  up  about  a  thimble  full,  and  put 
it  carefully  in  a  small  piece  of  paper. 

They  now  resumed  their  walk.  In  a  few  minutes 
they  reached  a  place  where  the  priest  stopped. 
On  either  side  they  saw  an  opening  which  was 
made  by  a  cross  passage,  but  tiie  way  was  closed 
by  stones  piled  up  so  as  to  prevent  any  one  from 
wandering  there. 

"  Dese  y^assage,"  said  the  priest,  "  lead  far  away ; 
dere  is  danjaire  ;  dey  are  wall  up.  You  must  not 
go  in  dere;  you  will  be  lost." 

This  injunction  was  1'ardly  needed ;  for  as  the 
way  was  walled  up  to  within  a  foot  of  the  top,  it 
would  have  been  difficult  to  have  climbed  over  or 
crawled  through  the  narrow  opening. 

Nothing  more  was  said.     The  party  of  visitors 

•looked   with   feelings   of  deep    awe    upon    these 

walled-up  passages,  and  there  came  over  them  the 

thought  of  the  fearful  labyrinth  beyond,  and  the 


THE   LABYRINTHINE   PASSAGES.  119 

horror  that  might  await  tho  unwary  explorer  of 
their  mysteries.  Instinctively  they  kept  ck)ser 
together  for  a  time,  as  they  foHowed  the    priest. 

As  tliey  walked  on  now,  they  noticed  that  tiieso 
cross-passages  were  of  frequ'^nt  occurrence.  Some 
were  walled  up  to  tho  very  top.  Others  were 
^yalled  up  only  half  way.  Others  had  no  blockade 
at  all,  but  yawned  before  their  eyes,  black,  dark, 
menacing,  and  awi'ul,  showing  a  gloomy  depth, 
where  they  might  imagine  a  thousand  dangers 
lurking.  Into  these  they  threw  but  a  hasty  look, 
and  hastened  on,  keeping  still  closer  to  the  priest, 
and  throwing  hurried  glances  backward,  to  seQ 
that  they  were  all  together. 

At  length  they  reached  a  place  where  one  of 
these  cross-passages  was.  On  the  right  it  yawned 
black  and  awful  before  them,  leading  into  endless 
horrors,  while  on  the  left  it  had  been  walled  up 
with  stone  to  the  very  top.  The  stone  had  been 
whitewashed,  and  on  this  had  been  rudely  painted 
a  great  black  cross*.  Straight  ahead  they  still  saw 
the  passage-way  along  which  they  had  been  mov- 
ing, and  they  perceived  that  they  could  still  go 
forward  in  a  straight  course. 

"  An  accident  did  once  take  place  here,"  said 
the  priest,  "  and  it  haf  ben  wall  up,  an  dey  all  be 
wall  up,  to  stop  de  accident.  De  cross  here  on  do 
white  stone  is  de  warnin.  But  for  us  dere  is  no 
danjaire." 

He  resumed  his  walk,  and  stopped  after  a  few 


120  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

minutes'  farther  progress,  with  his  imnd  upon  ono  of 
tlie  niches.  Tiius  fur  the  wall  iiad  been  lined  on 
either  aide,  all  the  way,  with  these  graves  ;  but  there 
was  something  in  the  grave  which  the  priest  was 
indicating  different  from  the  generality. 

"  You  see  dis,"  he  said.  "  It  is  what  dey  call  a 
Bisoraum ;  daL  means,  two  are  buried  —  two  in  on^o 
grave." 

The  boys  looked  in,  holding  in  their  torches. 
They  saw  that  the  grave  was  deeper  than  usual, 
and  might  have  held  two  bodies.  There  was, 
however,  nothing  in  this  which  they  found  particu- 
larly interesting,  and  so  they  once  more  moved  on. 

The  way  now  presented  merely  a  continuation 
of  the  scenes  through  which  they  had  been  passing. 
It  was  of  about  the  same  height,  width,  and  form. 
On  either  side  the  open  graves  yawned.  The  boys 
could  not  help  lamenting  that  all  the  marble  tablets 
had  been  taken  away,  for  this  prevented  any  close 
examination,  and  threw  a  certain  monotony  over 
the  scene.  Every  step  showed  what  was  merely 
the  counterpart  of  what  they  had  just  seen ;  and 
so  there  was  no  inducement  to  stop  at  any  one 
place  so  ns  to  examine  more  minutely.  In  spite 
of  this,  however,  their  interest  in  this  place  was 
none  the  less.  It  was  so  extraordinary  a  scene, 
that  they  could  not  view  it  with  anything  less 
than  the  most  intense  curiosity.  It  was  utterly 
unlike  anything  that  they  had  ever  seen  before, 
either  at  home  or  abroad.     These  Christian  graves 


DANGER  ON   EVEBY  SIDE.  121 

made  it  soem  like  a  sanctified  spot,  and  the  cross- 
passages  threw  over  it  an  element  of  possible 
danger  which  did  not  lessen  its  attractions. 
Whetlier  they  were  walled  np  or  open,  made  no 
(lifFerence ;  if  walled  up,  they  spoke  of  possible 
danger ;  if  open,  they  showed  that  danger  manifest ; 
and  so,  as  tliey  went  along,  they  felt  an  eager  in- 
terest, a  kindling  enthusiasm,  and  an  intense  ex- 
citement, which  was  intermingled  with  a  sense  of 
threatening  danger;  and  all  together  united  to  throw 
a  terrible  fascination  over  this  scene.  Thus  they 
went  on,  following  the  guide,  and  keeping  well 
together. 

At  length  their  onward  progress  in  this  direction 
came  to  an  abrupt  termination.  The  passage-way 
was  completely  walled  up.  On  the  right,  however, 
another  opening  appeared,  which  was  originally, 
a  cross-way,  and  into  this  their  guide  led  them. 
After  proceeding  about  a  hundred  yards,  they 
reached  some  stones,  and  the  guide  turned  to 
the ,  left,  and  proceeded  onward  for  about  two 
hundred  yards.  At  length  he  reached  a  place 
where  he  stopped  and  looked  around  with  an  ex- 
pression of  deep  solemnity.  This  place  was  differ- 
ent from  any  that  they  had  yet  seen.  The  walls 
stood  further  apart,  and  the  roof  was  higher  above 
them.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  species  of  chamber,  about 
nine  or  ten  feet  in  diameter. 

"  Dis,"  said  the  priest,  "  was  use  by  dem  for  a 
chapel  for  de  worship.     See  —  on  de  walls  —  you 


122  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

find  dc  picture;  bco  —  hero  is  Noah  an  do   Ark; 
and  here  is  Jonah  an  de  whale." 

Saying  this,  ho  pointed  to  some  marks  on  the 
wall,  wliich  the  boys  proceeded  to  examine  with 
great  attention.  Time  and  damp  had  caused  the 
colors  to  fade,  and  the  drawings  were  never  other 
tlian  rude ;  but  still,  enough  was  visible  to  show 
that  there  was  an  attempt  to  represent  thoso 
sacred  scones  which  tho  priest  had  mentioned. 

The  priest  now  became  more  communicative 
than  he  had  hitherto  been,  and  showed  himself 
possessed  of  much  information  about  the  Catacombs 
and  the  ornaments  on  their  walls.  He  pointed 
out  many  other  rude  pictures  on  tho  walls  of  this 
little  subterranean  chapel.  ITo  showed  them 
Abraham,  IsJtuc,  and  Jacob  ;  tho  three  Hebrews  in 
the  fiery  furnace;  Christ  stilling  tho  wavoe  ;  and 
many  others  Avhich  represented  events  recorded  in 
the  Old  and  Now  Testaments.  He  drew  their 
attention  to  the  prominence  which  was  given  to  tho 
figure  of  a  fish  in  these  pictures,  and  explained 
the  meaning  of  it.  For  the  Greo'^  letters  forming 
tho  Greek  word  for  fish  are  the  initials  of  the 
Greek  words  which  mean  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of 
God,  the  Saviour. 

He  also  told  them  of  the  sufferings  of  the  Chris- 
tians during  the  pagan  persecutions,  and  told  them 
of  a  use  then  made  of  tho  Catacombs  which  fliey 
had  never  before  suspected.  For  then,  when 
persecution  raged,  and  no  man,  or  woman  or  child 


SAD   ABODE   OF  THE   CHRISTIANS.  123 

might  be  safe  in  tlie  city,  they  fled  lioro,  leaving 
the  Hght  of  day  and  tlio  liaiints  of  living  men  to 
como  down  hero  among  the  dead,  in  tiiia  place  of 
darknoBH  and  the  shadow  of  death ;  living  here, 
peopling  these  narrow  walks,  worshipping  in  thia 
subterranean  gloom,  and  singing  their  holy  songs 
amid  these  mournful  surroundings ;  a  subterranean 
city;  a  «cene  unparalleled  iu  all  the  ages  of 
history. 


124  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 


CHAPTER   X. 

Walking  in  a  Circle. —  The  awful  Memorial.  —  The  Story 
of  Anselmo.  —  The  Catacombs.  —  The  Latnp.  —  The  lost 
Clew.  —  The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  — Tost  in  a 
Labyrinth.  —  The  Search  for  the  Clew.  —  In  the  Dark.  — 
An  eternal  Separation.  —  Despairing  Efforts.  —  TJirongh 
the  Paths.  —  The  vain  Search.  —  The  Loss  of  Hope.  —  The 
Terror  of  the  Catacombs, 

^^fe)  EAVING  the  chapel,  they  now  resumed  their 
Jm^  wanderings  along  the  passage-waj^s,  whioh 
^^"^  were  very  much  the  same  as  before.  The 
priest  went  on  ahead  in  silence,  occasionally  indi- 
cating some  tomb  of  more  than  ordinary  impor- 
tance ty  a  brief  remark.  After  some  time  they 
turned  to  the  right,  and  then,  after  a  little  longer 
walk,  to  the  left,  then  once  more  to  the  right,  and 
once  more  again  to  the  right.  These  frequent 
turns  were  all  very  abrupt  ones,  being  made  where 
passages  had  either  been  closed  up,  or  where  stones 
lay  on  the  floor,  as  if  to  indicate  that  they  were 
closed.  So  many  windings  and  turnings  served  to 
confuse  the  minds  of  the  boys,  who  at  length  lost 
all  idea  of  locality,  and  followed  their  guide  in  a 
bewildered  way. 


THE  AWFUL   MEMORIAL.  125 

At  length  the  priest  stopped,  and  the  boys  saw 
before  tliem  a  passage-way  walled  up  with  stones. 
These  stones  were  painted  white,  and  on  them  was 
rudely  marked  a  great  black  cross. 

"  Why,  this  is  exactly  like  that  other  one  that 
we  saw  before,"  said  David.  "  What  does  it  mean? 
Does  this  also  mark  the  place  where  some  accident 
occurred  ?  "  '  • 

*'  Dis,"  said  the  priest,  "  is  de  same  place ;  you 
air  come  back." 

"  What  1  have  we  come  all  the  way  back  ?  "  said 
Frank,  in  a  disappointed  tone  ;  "  and  isn't  there 
any  more  to  see  ?  " 

"  Dere  is  plenty  more  to  see,"  said  the  priest; 
"but  we  nevare  show  no  more  to  stranjaire.  Dere 
is  danjaire  ;  we  go  dissa  way  as  you  air  gone." 

"  But  can't  we  see  some  of  the  real,  ancient 
tablets  on  the  graves  themselves  ?  "  asked  David. 
"  There  needn't  be  any  danger  for  us.  We'll  fol- 
low you,  and  keep  close  together." 

The  priest  shook  his  head. 
,  "  Boys,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  don't  think  of 
it.     Y,  e've  seen  enough.     Let's  hurry  out  of  this, 
or  I'll  be  laid  up  with  the  rheumatiz  for  a  month. 
I  feel  it  already  a  penetratin  of  my  bones." 

"  0,  no ;  don't  go  yet,  Uncle  Moses,"  said  Clive  ; 
"just  let  us  see  a  little  more.  We'll  never  see 
such  a  place  as  this  again.'' 

Uncle  Moses  buttoned  his  coat  tighter  about  hia 
chest,  and  gave  a  groan. 


126  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

"  Wal,"  said  he,  with  a  resigned  tone,  "  I  don't 
want  to  hender  yer  enjymints." 

"  Dere  is  danjaire,"  said  the  priest  once  more,  in 
a  solemn  tone,  "  away  outside  of  de  track  dat  is 
'ra?iged  for  de  visitor.  Dere  is  passage,  wit  open- 
in  in  de  paviraents,  into  which  you  sail  fall  an  die. 
De  taper  giv'es  not  light  enough  to  guard  yourself 
from  the  tmp-door  openin.  Dese  catacombs  air 
in  stories,  one  'bove  de  odaire,  and  so  dere  is  dis 
danjaire,  beside  de  danjaire  of  gettin  lost.  You 
see  dis  mark  —  de  black  cross  on  de  white  stones 
—  dis  is  a  mark,  a  sign,  a  commemorazione  of  a 
terrible  aventura  —  " 

At  this  the  boys  w^ere  filled  with  eager  curiosity 
to  hear  what  the  terrible  adventure  was  to  which 
the  priest  alluded,  and  pressed  him  to  tell  them  all 
about  it.  Tha  priesl;  was  not  unwilling,  but  pro- 
ceeded to  recount  the  following  tale,  with  a  vohi- 
bility  and  a  minuteness  that  seemed  as  though  lie 
must  have  learned  it  by  heart,  and  were  evidently 
the  result  of  a  lo«g  practice  in  telling  this  identical 
story  to  visitors  whom  he  led  about  here.  In  giv- 
ing this  story  her'^  it  is  not  necessary  to  retain  the 
broken  English  and  the  Italian  words  and  idioms 
which  marked  the  priest's  version  of  it;  but  the 
substance  itself  is  given,  without  any  particular 
alteration. 

"  The  Catacombs  were  the  work  of  the  early 
Christians,  wlio  buried  their  dead  here,  and  found 
refuge  here  in  several  persecutions.     Afterwards 


^1^8 


THE  priest's  stout.  127 


they  were  looked  upon  as  a  holy  place  for  cen- 
turies, and  pilgrims  came  here  from  the  more 
remote  countries,  to  fast  and  pray  amoiig  the  holy 
relics.  But  ctt  length  all  this  ceased,  and  through 
the  dark  ages  they  became  altogether  forgotten. 
At  length,  about  a  hundred  years  ago,  they  were 
discovered  once  more,  and  their  true  character 
made  known  to  the  world. 

"  Among  '.hose  who  came  here  to  explore  were 
two  young  priests,  enthusiasts  in  Christian  an- 
tiquities, who  wished  to  study  for  themselves  the 
manners  and  customs  of  the  early  Christians,  in  so 
far  as  they  could  learn  these  by  the  pictures  and 
the  inscriptions  which  they  had  left  behind  them 
here.  One  was  named  Ansalmo,  and  the  other 
Pascal.  They  were  at  first«trictly  cautioned  by 
the  authorities  in  the  Catlpdral  of  St.  Sebastian; 
but,  after  several  visits,  it  was  believed  that  their 
experience  and  their  natural  caution  woula  prevent 
them  from  falling  into  any  danger. 

"  At  length  one  morning  they  weiit  down,  and 
took  with  them  the  usual  materials  to  assist  them 
in  their  explorations,  namely,  a  lamp,  a  clew,  and 
sketch-books.  On  entering  the  first  passage  they 
unrolled  the  clew,  and  theiftiwent  on,  seeking  a  fresh 
place  to  explore.  It  was  through  this  very  pas- 
sage, now  walled  up,  that  they  took  their  way,  and 
proceeded  for  some  distance  in  that  direction,  wan- 
dering about  in  different  passages,  until  at  length, 
to  their  great  joy,  they  came  to  a  Christian  chapel. 


128  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

It  was  larger  than  any  which  they  had  yet  seen, 
the  pictures  on  the  walls  were  more  numerous  and 
better  drawn  than  usual,  the  colors  also  were 
brighter,  and  altogetlier  the  place  promised  more 
than  any  other  in  the  Catacombs. 

"  Now,  it  happened  that  before  they  had  come  to 
this  place,  the  string  which  formed  their  clew  had 
given  out.  It  was  a  serious  matter,  but  they  did 
,.  not  feel  inclined  to  return  just  then,  but  rather 
determined  to  go  onward  for  a  short  distance. 
They  thought  that  if  they  went  onward  in  a  straight 
line,  they  could  easily  return  to  the  clew  whenever 
they  wanted  to.  This  they  accordingly  did,  and 
walking  on  in  this  straight  line,  they  reached  the 
chapel  which  I  have  mentioned. 

"  It  was  the  largest  that  they  had  ever  seen  here, 
being  as  much  as  fifteen  feet  in  diameter.  It  was 
also  about  twelve  feet  high,  with  a  vaulted  roof. 
Then  one  passage-way  passed  straight  through  it, 
and  besides  this  two  other  passage-ways  inter- 
sected it,  so  that  around  the  chapel  no  less  than 
six  openings  appeared,  all  of  which  led  to  different 
parts  of  the  Catacombs.  This  seemed  to  show  that 
the  chapel  may  have  once  been  more  generally 
used  than  other  places  of  the  same  kind. 

"  They  now  proceeded,  with  the  utmost  eager- 
ness, to  study  the  pictures,  and  make  notes  and 
sketches  of  them.  Beginning  at  a  prominent  fig- 
ure, which  had  first  attracted  their  attention,  they 
went  OQ  from  this,  noting  everything  most  care- 


THE  priest's  story.  129 

fully.  They  had,  as  T  have  said,  one  lamp  between 
them.  One  held  this,  while  the  other  made  notes 
and  took  sketches  till  he  was  tired,  when  he  would 
take  the  lamp,  and  let  the  other  do  the  work  of 
transcription. 

"  Anselmo  was  thus  holding  the  light  while 
Pascal  was  drawing,  when  the  latter  observed  that 
it  was  growing  dark.  Anselmo  at  once  suggested 
a  return  ;  but  Pascal,  who  was  intensely  interested 
in  this  particular  drawing,  entreated  him  to  wait 
;  till  he  had  finished  it.  Alas  !  it  was  this  that  ruined 
all.  Anselmo  yielded,  and  picked  the  wick  so  as 
to  make  it  burn  brighter.  The  light  thus  flickered 
up  for  a  few  minutes  somewhat  cle^'er,  but  only 
for  a  few  minutes.  Picking  fhe  wick  only  has- 
tened its  extinction ;  it  grew  dimmer  and  dimmer, 
unttil  at  last  Pascal  could  see  no  more,  and  a  faint 
spark  of  flame  only  was  left. 

" '  Quick  ! '  said  Pascal, '  before  it  goes  out ;  let's 
find  the  path.     Which  is  it?' 

"  By  the  flickering  spark  of  flame  the  two  guided 
themselves  towards  the  place  which  seemed  to 
them  the  point  at  which  they  had  entered,  and 
scarce  had  they  reached  it  when  the  light  died 
out  utterly. 

"  For  a  few  moments  Anselmo  and  Pascal  stood 
^"^\  dumb  horror,  unable  to  speak  a  word.     Pascal 
'Was  the  first  to  break  that  silence. 

" '  Tliis,'  said  he,  *  must  be  the  path  by  which 
we  came.' 

9 


130  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

"  '  No/  said  Anselmo  ;  '  this  other  passage  must 
be  the  one.     In  fact,  I'm  confident  — ' 

"  '  And  I'm  equally  confident/  said  Pascal, '  that 
this  is  the  one.' 

"  A  long  argument  followed. 

"  The  two  passage-ways,  about  which  they 
argued,  entered  the  chapel  at  a  distance  of  only 
two  feet  apart,  and  the  wall  here  that  separated 
them  was  rounded  off.  But  they  led  in  different 
directions,  and  if  one  was  the  path  of  life,  the 
other  must  surely  be  the  path  of  death.  And  thus 
Anselmo  and  Pascal  were  debating  for  life  and 
death,  and  each  one  felt  sure  that  this  was  the 
case.  Therefore  they  argued  all  the  more  vehe- 
mently, each  in  favor  of  his  own  opinion,  and  each 
unable  to  convince  the  other.  It  was  a  question 
which  they  had  no  means  of  deciding,  for  light  was 
gone,  and  in  that  utter  darkness  they  could  only 
compare  the  two  by  feeling  with  their  hands.  In- 
deed, even  if  their  light  had  been  burning,  they 
could  not  have  discerned  the  right  path  from  the 
wrong,  so  completely  had  the  charm  of  their  occu- 
pation effaced  all  recollection  of  this  passage  by 
which  they  came.  To  the  ordinary  eye  the  two 
were  both  exactlv  alike,  and  as  thev  felt  with  their 
hands  along  the  floor  and  walls,  they  could  per- 
ceive no  difference. 

"  I  have  often  thought  about  this,"  said  the 
priest,  mournfully  ;  "  very  often  ;  and  it  has  seemed 
to  me  that  their  only  hope  was  to  keep  together  at 


THE  priest's  story.  131 

all  events.  It  would  have  been  the  best  course  for 
them,  going  in  company,  to  have  tried  each  one  of 
these  passages,  going  along  each,  for  as  great  a 
distance  as  might  suffice  to  bring  them  to  the  clew. 
But  perhaps  this  would  have  ruined  both,  instead 
of  saving  one  ;  and  at  all  events  they  did  not  do  so. 
On  the  contrary,  they  decided  to  separate,  and 
while  one  was  to  take  one  passage,  the  other  should 
take  the  other.  They  also  agreed,  if  either  found 
the  clew,  to  return  to  the  chapel,  and  wait  there  by 
the  right  passage  for  his  companion.  In  making 
this  agreement,  they  thought  only  of  being  sep- 
arated for  a  half  hour  or  an  hour,  and  had  but  little 
idea  of  the  terrible  trial  that  lay  before  them,  or  of 
the  true  nature  of  this  separation. 

"And  so  they  parted  —  Anselmo  going  to  the 
passage  which  he  thought  the  right  one,  while 
Pascal  took  the  other. 

"  Pascal  did  not  dare  to  walk.  He  wished  to 
find  the  clew,  and  therefore  moved  onward  on  his 
hands  and  knees.  How  far  away  that  clew  might 
be  he  did  not  know.  He  had  forgotten,  in  the  en- 
grossing occupations  of  the  chapel.  As  he  crept 
onward  upon  his  hands  and  knees,  he  felt  with  his 
hand  all  the  time,  moving  it  from  side  to  side,  in 
search  of  the  clew. 

"  He  went  onward  thus  for  a  long  distance,  for  a 
distance,  indeed,  so  long  that  it  seemed  to  him 
impossible  for  the  clew  to  be  so  far  away.  The 
farther  he  went,  the  more  confident  did  he  feel  of 


132  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

tliis,  until  at  length  hu  felt  convinced  that  he  must 
have  taken  the  wrong  path. 

"  What  now  ?  Should  ho  retrace  his  way.  He 
must,  and  at  once.  And  was  Anselmo  riglit?  He 
might  be.  At  any  rate,  it  was  better  to  return 
than  to  wander  on  in  this  way. 

"  So  ho  turned  now,  and  rising  to  his  feet,  walked 
back.  Ho  had  to  walk  slowly,  so  as  to  be  sure  tliat 
he  was  keeping  a  straight  line,  and  to  feel  the 
walls  with  his  hands  as  he  passed  along.  The 
length  of  the  way  back  showed  him  plainly  how 
far  he  had  first  gone,  and  also  convinced  him  more 
effectually,  that  he  must  indeed  have  lost  his  way. 
He  now  hoped  to  find  Anselmo,  and  this  hope  en- 
couraged him.  He  might  have  been  successful, 
he  thought,  and  if  so,  then  all  would  be  well. 
Even  if  ho  had  failed,  all  might  still  be  well,  for 
they  could  make  another  search,  and  in  company. 

"  At  length  he  found  himself  back  in  what  he 
knew  to  be  the  chapel,  for  there  were  the  articles 
which  they  had  left  —  the  extinguished  lamp  and 
the  fatal  sketch-book. 

"  But  where  was  Anselmo  ? 

"  This  question  came  to  him  as  he  re-entered  the 
empty  chapel.  Where  was  Anselmo  ?  How  had 
he  fared  ?     How  far  had  he  gone  ? 

"  Where  was  Anselmo  ?  He  could  not  tell.  He 
could  not  conjecture.  Was  he  within  hearing? 
Perhaps  so.  But  he  was  afraid  to  call.  Afraid, 
for  if  no  answer  should  come,  then  that  awful  truth 
would  be  all  revealed  which  he  feared  to  know. 


THE  priest's  story.  133 

"At  length  ho  could  cndiiro  his  suspense  no 
longer.  Standing  there  by  the  passage-way  up 
wliich  he  had  gone,  and  down  which  he  had  re- 
turned, he  leaned  his  head  over  so  that  i.  should 
be  in  the  passage-way  chosen  by  Anselmo,  and  tlien 
called  his  name.  The  sound  of  his  voice  went  far, 
far  up  the  passage,  and  died  away  in  the  distance 
and  in  the  darkness.  Pascal  listened,  spell-bound, 
but  no  answer  came.  His  cries  died  away  -n  the 
dark,  and  as  ho  listened,  the  silence  seemed  terri- 
ble. Again  and  again  he  cried.  Still  no  answer 
came. 

"  And  now  another  thought  arose  in  Pascal's 
mind.  He  would  go  up  this  passage-way.  He 
would  pursue  his  friend,  and  try  to  find  him.  At 
any  rate,  he  would  be  nearer  to  him.  Accordingly 
he  acted  on  this  impulse,  and  at  once  proceeded 
up  Anselmo's  passage.  He  moved  more- rapidly 
than  before,  yet  still  on  his  hands  and  knees,  part- 
ly because  he  wished  to  feel  for  the  clew,  but  still 
more  because  he  knew  that  in  many  of  the  pas- 
sages there  were  openings  into  stories  below,  down 
which  one  might  be  precipitated  who  dared  to  Avalk 
in  the  dark.  Thus  he  crept  on,  and  at  intervals  he 
stopped  and  shouted  for  Anselmo,  and  listened. 

"  Long,  long  he  crept  on  in  this  direction,  until 
he  had  traversed  a  greater  distance  than  that  over 
Avhich  he  had  cmwled  in  the  first  path.  And  still 
he  found  no  trace  of  any  clew,  and  still  no  answer 
came  to  his  cry.     But  he  had  found  no  openings  iu 


134  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

iho  patli,  and  there  were  no  pitfalls  hero  through 
which  Ans(*lmo  could  have  fallen. 

"  At  length  it  seemed  probable  to  him  that  An- 
selmo  had  turned  about  early  in  his  course,  and,  re- 
tracing his  steps,  had  tried  another  passage  in  the 
hope  of  finding  the  clew.  No  sooner  had  this 
thought  occurred  than  hope  once  more  arose  within 
him.  lie  would  go  back  at  once,  and  he,  too, 
would  try  all  the  other  passages.  By  this  means 
the  clew  must  at  last  be  found,  and  not  only  the 
clew,  but  also  Anselmo. 

"  Rising  once  more  to  his  feet,  he  walked  back, 
moving  with  painful  steps,  for  he  began  to  feel 
weak  and  weary,  and  his  legs  and  hands  were  sore 
and  bruised  from  so  long  a  journey  over  the  rough 
stone  floor.  It  was,  therefore,  with  uneasy,  falter- 
ing, and  staggering  steps,  and  aching  limbs,  tliat 
he  went  back  to  the  chapel.  It  was  in  a  straight 
line  ;  and  by  keeping  a  straight  course,  he  at 
length,  after  a  long  time,  reached  the  fatal  place. 

"Here  once  more  he  called  for  Anselmo,  and 
once  more  there  was  no  reply.  Once  more  his 
cries  died  away  in  the  abhorrent  darkness,  and  his 
soul  once  more  sank  down  in  despair.  But  once 
more  hope  on  her  side  revived,  and  he  roused  his 
energies  towards  a  continuation  of  the  search  after 
the  clew  and  Anselmo. 

"  Pascal  now  entered  a  third  passage-way,  and 
moved  up  this,  as  before,  on  his  hands  and  knees. 
But  his  progress  was  more  slow  and  painful  than 


THE  priest's  story.  135 

before,  and  it  was  no  bettor  rewarded.  After,  a 
long  and  weary  way,  he  dragged  himself  back, 
and  once  more  reached  the  chapel. 

"  Here  ho  sat  for  a  moment  overwhelmed  with 
despair.  This  despair  was  intensified  by  his  own 
increasing  weakness.  The  time  that  had  elapsed 
since  he  had  parted  from  Anselmo  seemed  fearfnlly 
long.  But  in  a  situation  like  his  ho  dared  not  re- 
main long  inactive,  and  as  long  as  his  strength 
lasted,  he  had  to  exert  it.  Three  of  the  paths  ho 
had  already  explored  to  a  distance  far  greater  than 
that  which  could  possibly  intervene  between  him- 
self and  tlie  clew.  Three  more  remained.  Ho 
might  try  them  all,  yet  not  go  so  far.  Anselmo 
might  be  in  one  of  them,  or,  if  not,  at  any  rate  his 
best  way  would  be  first  to  find  tlie  clew,  after 
which  he  could  go  and  get  abler  explorers  than 
himself,  who  might  come  and  rescue  the  lost  one. 
But  first  tlie  clew,  the  clew ;  without  that  he,  too, 
was  lost. 

"  Once  more,  then,  Pascal  dragged  his  weary 
frame  over  the  stony  floor,  through  the  darkness 
and  silence,  and,  as  before,  he  called  for  Anselmo, 
yet  not  so  frequently.  And  so,  at  length,  he  had 
penetrated  far  up  the  fourth  passage,  not  so  far  as 
in  the  others,  yet  far  enough  to  reach  the  clew  if 
it  was  there.  But  no  clew  was  found,  and  onco 
more  the  wretched  Pascal  came  back. 

"  Two  passages  now  remained ;  but  had  ho 
strength  for  them  ?    No  matter.    He  must  go.    Ho 


136  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

must  movo  on,  though  ho  died  on  that  pathway. 
And  Ro  he  crawled  up  tho  fifth  passage-way. 

"  lie  crawled  feehly,  miserably.  He  was  weak 
now,  half  fainting.  Ho  was  like  ono  who  had  been 
crawling  for  days  over  many  miles.  Hie  voice  was 
gone.  When  ho  tried  to  call  Anselmo,  there  was 
nothing  but  a  whisper.  He  could  scarce  sustain 
his  fainting  form.  At  last,  while  his  brain  was  reel- 
ing with  faintness  and  dizziness,  and  his  tremulous 
frame  swayed  from  side  to  si'^e,  as  ho  tried  to  force 
liimself  onward,  all  of  a  sudden  he  felt  upon  his 
swollen  and  smarting  hand  the  touch  of  a  line  of 
cord.  An  electric  shock  passed  through  him,  a 
thrill  of  joy  flashed  over  all  his  being.  It  was  the 
clew.     Ho  was  saved. 

"  That  very  instant  he  fell  senseless  from  joy ; 
and  how  long  he  lay  he  never  could  tell,  nor  could 
he  ever  tell  how  long  he  had  been  crawling  to  and 
fro.  But,  at  any  rate,  there  he  was  found,  three 
days  after  he  and  Anselmo  had  gone  down,  by  some 
from  the  cathedral,  who  had  noticed  their  lung  ab- 
sence, and  had  become  frightened.  By  these  Pas- 
cal was  brought  back,  and  tenderly  nursed  into 
health.  But  as  for  the  other," — and  here  the  narra- 
tor's voice  sank  into  a  low  and  thrilling  tone,  "  as 
for  the  other,  —  brother  Anselmo  never  returned." 


IMPRESSION  OP  THE  PRIEST'S  STORV.  137 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Superstitious  Fears,  —  Another  Round. —  The  hasty  Tramp, 

—  Alarm.  —  Awful  Discovery.  —  Lost  in  the  Catacombs. 

—  The  hurried  Search.  —  Frank  alone.  —  The  anxious 
Lookout. —  Where  is  he? — Ls  there  any  Hope?  — 
Throui;h  the  Fassa^q^es  once  more.  —  The  Warning  front 
Anselmo's  Fate.  — How  it  all  ended. 

OST  profound  was  tlio  impression  wliich 
the  priest's  story  made  upon  all  the  boys. 
Under  ordinary  circumstances  such  a 
story  was  not  without  a  certain  interest ;  but  hero 
in  this  darkness,  with  the  faint  light  of  the  tapers 
feebly  illumining  the  surrounding  gloom,  here  in  this 
city  of  the  dead,  here  in  the  very  place  where  this 
had  occurred,  and  by  the  very  path  over  which  he 
had  dragged  his  weary  frame,  in  sight  of  that 
great  black  cross,  marked  here  to  commemorate 
the  doom  of  Anselmo,  here,  in  such  a  place  and 
with  such  surroundings,  the  effect  of  the  story  was 
tremendous.  The  boys  listened  to  it  with  quick, 
throbbing  hearts,  breathlessly  and  in  silence. 

After  the  priest  ended,  they  poured  upon  him  a 
whole  volley  of  questions.  Among  them  all,  how- 
ever, one  was  prominent  —  "And  what  became  of 
Anselmo?" 


138  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

"  Noting  was  ever  found  of  him,  and  his  fate  is 
one  of  do  darkest  mysterie^>  connected  Avith  de 
Catacombs.  For  after  dey  did  rescue  Pascal,  dey 
explored  de.  Catacombs  far  and  wide.  In  vain; 
not  a  trace  of  him  was  found." 

"  How  strange  !  "  exclaimed  Clive.  "  Do  you 
suppose  that  he  could  have  wandered  so  far 
away  ?  " 

The  priest  shook  his  head. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  ho.  "  Dere  are  some  dat 
say  dere  was  foul  play,  an  dat  Anselmo  desave 
Pascal ;  dat  he  entice  him  down,  an  escape  him- 
self; but  dis  is  not  possibile ;  for  what  could  be  de 
motif?  Dere  was  no  enmity ;  dey  were  close 
friends ;  dey  were  quiet  students ;  an  more,  dey 
were  good  Christian  priests.  In  de  mind  of  Pascal 
dere  was  never  a  suspizone.  like  dat.  He  live  an 
he  die  with  grief  for  his  friend,  an  he  feel  remorse 
to  his  death-bed  dat  he  was  de  cause  why  dey  de- 
layed five  minute  too  long,  when  de  lamp  first  be- 
gan to  grow  dim.  He  alway  say  dose  five  minute 
de  cause  of  all.  If  dey  had  hurried  back  widout 
"waitin  dose  five  minute,  dey  might  haf  found  de 
right  passage.  B  .c  for  my  part,  I  not  tink  dose 
five  minute  much  good ;  for  if  de  lamp  had  been 
burnin.  dey  could  not  tell  de  right  way  from  de 
wrong.  But  for  Anselmo,  my  opinion  is,  he  got 
lost,  an  die  here ;  dough  whar  he  got  lost,  an  whar 
he  go,  I  cannot  tell.     An  now,  sail  we  go  back  ?  " 

"  Go  back  ?  "  repeated  Frank. 


^  ANOTHER   ROUND.  139 

"  Yes  ;  to  de  cathedral." 

"  Back  ?  "  cried  David  ;  "  back?    Why,  can't  we 
see  some  more  ?  " 
The  priest  shook  his  head. 
"  Dere  is   no  more,"  said  he.     "  You  haf  seen 

de  all." 

"  0,  well,  then,"  said  Frank,  "  can't  you  take  us 
around  again  ?  I  didn't  notice  it  much  the  first 
time,  you  know  ;  but  after  your  story,  it's  got  to 
be  ten  times  the  place  it  was  before.  I  want  to 
see  that  chapel  again,  and  see  how  it  was  tliat  poor 
Pascal  made  his  mistake." 

"  But  dat  was  not  de  chapel  of  Pascal." 

"  0, 1  know  that ;  but  it'll  do.  I  only  want  to 
see  how  the  passages  come  into  it,  and  whether 
they  all  look  alike,  or  not." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  Clive,  eagerly ;  "  let's  go 
around  again.  Why,  we  can  imagine  that  we  see 
the  two  friends  exploring  these  passages." 

"  Yes,"  said  David,  "  or  Pascal  creeping  along 
on  his  hands  and  knees." 

"  What  fun  !  "  cried  Bob.  "  It'll  be  as  good  as 
going  through  a  haunted  house  in  the  dead  of 
night,  or  an  old  graveyard,  and  looking  about  for 
the  ghosts  to  appear.  For  my  part,  I  do  believe 
that  the  ghost  of  Anselrao  —  " 

"  H-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-h ! "  said  the  priest,  with  a 
severe  look.  "  Do  not  speak  so  flippant  of  de 
awful  mystery,  of  de  spiritual  state.  De  ghost 
of  Anselmo  may  well  haunt  dis  place ;  but  I  not 
wis  to  see  him." 


140  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

At  this  rebuke  Bob  looked  meekly  down,  and 
made  no  reply.  The  others  said  nothing.  All  felt 
that  the  rebuke  was  well  merited,  for  certainly 
this  was  not  a  fitting  place  for  levity  at  any  time, 
but  least  of  all  while  the  memory  of  Anselmo  and 
Pascal  was  still  so  strong  in  their  minds. 

The  priest  now  said  no  more,  but  with  a  gesture 
for  them  to  follow,  he  walked  away  in  compliance 
with  their  request  to  go  over  the  ground  once 
more  which  they  had  already  traverned.  They  all 
followed  him  eagerly.  The  priest  now  walked 
much  more  rapidly  than  on  the  former  occasion, 
and  they  were  compelled  to  be  much  more  careful 
with  their  tapers. 

But  as  they  now  walked  along,  they  surveyed 
the  gloomy  scene  with  far  different  eyes.  The 
story  of  Anselmo  had  thrown  around  everything  a 
new  interest,  and  given  to  everything  a  new  mean- 
ing. Deep  in  the  shadows  before  them  they  could 
fancy  that  they  saw  the  forms  of  Anselmo  and 
of  Pascal  flitting  before  them,  beckoning  them 
onward,  or  imagine  that  behind  them  those  same 
shadowy  figures  were  pursuing.  This  feehng  at 
length  took  possession  of  them  all,  and  to  such  a 
degree  that  a  sort  of  superstitious  fear  came  over 
them;  and  the  sense  of  being  pursued  was  so  strong 
that  none  of  them  cared  particularly  about  looking 
behind  him.  In  this  frame  of  mind  they  reached 
the  chapel.  Here  they  thought  of  nothing  else 
but  Anselmo  and  Pascal,  as  they,  in  a  chapel  similar 


A   CRY  FROM  BOB.  141 

to  this,  took  notes  and  made  sketches.  On  these 
walls  before  tliem  tlioy  saw  the  dim,  faded  colors 
and  rude  outlines  of  those  symbolical  Christian 
drawings  which  were  the  counterparts  of  those 
that  olfered  such  a  fatal  fascination  to  the  two  ex- 
plorers ;  and  round  them  they  saw  the  gapiug 
mouths  of  passages,  each  the  counterpart  of  tlio 
other,  like  those  which  had  bewildered  Ansel  mo 
and  Pascal.  Here  two  of  the  passages  had  been 
walled  up;  but  the  appearance  of  the  whole 
formed  the  best  possible  illustration  to  the  priest's 
story. 

Then  they  left  the  chapel,  and  hurried  on 
through  the  passages ;  past  the  rows  of  tombs  ; 
the  cells  that  were  arrayed  like  the  berths  of  a 
ship  on  either  side  ;  past  the  rough,  marked  walls 
that  showed  the  marks  left  by  the  Roman  fossor , 
who  had  excavated  these  passages ;  past  the 
mouths  0^  cross-passages,  some  blocked  up,  others 
.  gaping  wide,  black  and  grim,  with  a  few  stones  to 
indicate  a  fence  rather  than  to  form  one  ;  and  round 
corners,  now  turning  to  the  right,  now  to  the  left ; 
and  then  on,  and  once  more  rounding  corners, 
until  at  length  they  began  to  think  that  they  ought 
to  be  near  the  cathedral,  when  suddenly  —  sharp, 
and  shrill,  and  terrible  —  there  burst  upon  their 
ears  a  wild  cry  from  Bob. 

In  an  instant  every  one  turned  to  see  what  it 
was. 

Bob  stood  with  pale  face  and  clasped  hands. 


142  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

very  dilTerent  from  the  Bob  of  common  life  —  a 
very  different  Bob  indeed.  Ho  seemed  actually 
unable  to  speak  for  some  time ;  his  eyes  stared  and 
rolled  wildly  around ;  his  lips  moved;  he  said  noth- 
ing.    At  last  he  gasped  forth  two  words,  — 

"  Uncle  Moses  !  " 

The  two  words  sent  a  sharp  pang  through  the 
hearts  of  the  other  boys.  They  looked  around 
wildly,  fearfully,  hurriedly. 

Uncle  Moses  !  In  their  excitement  thev  had  all 
forgotten  him.  They  had  walked  at  a  rapid  pace. 
He  had  been  toiling  after  them.  He  had  been  left 
behind.  Perhaps  he  had  been  seized  with  a  sud- 
den attack  of  rheumatism,  and  had  sunk  down. 
Perhaps  he  had  called  after  them,  and  had  not 
been  heard ;  or,  worse  than  all,  —  awful  thought !  — 
thought  of  horror  and  of  despair  !  —  perhaps  he  had 
lost  his  way  ! 

Their  minds  were  yet  excited  by  the  story  of 
Anselmo.  The  thought  that  Uncle  Moses  might 
have  lost  his  way,  and  here  in  this  place,  was  utter 
anguish.  Bob  stood  gasping,  trying  to  say  more, 
but  unable.  Frank  stood  as  though  struck  dumb. 
Clive  wrung  his  hands,  and  looked  wildly  about  in 
all  directions,  while  David  burst  forth  into  wild 
cries  of,  — 

"  0,  Uncle  Moses  !  0,  Uncle  Moses!  0,  boys  ! 
He's  lost !  he's  lost!  0,  let's  hurry  and  find  him 
before  it's  too  late  !     0,  he's  lost !  he's  lost  !  " 

In  the  midst  of  this  the  priest  alone  stood  un- 


/ 


LOST  IN  THE   CATACOMBS.  143 

moved.  He  looked  earnestly  at  all  the  boys,  and 
tried  to  speak,  but  for  a  moment  David's  cries  pre- 
vented him  from  being  heard.  ^ 

"  Do  not  fear,"  said  he,  at  length,  as  soon 
as  he  could  make  himself  heard.  "  It  is  alia 
right." 

"  But  you  don't  understand,"  cried  David,  in  an 
agony  of  excitement  and  terror.  "  Uncle  Moses, 
our  guardian;  he  came  with  us  here,  and  he's  gone ; 
he's  lost ! " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  but  compose  yourself.  Do  not  fear. 
It  is  alia  right." 

"  But  he's  lost  I  He's  gone  astray  !  "  cried  Da- 
vid, in  continued  and  increasing  agitation,  "  and 
we'll  never  see  him  again  1  0,  come  !  O,  sir, 
show  us  how  to  find  him  !  Help  us  to  hunt  him 
up  before  it's  too  late  I  Come,  boys  I  Come, 
Frank  !     Come  !     0,  come  !  " 

"  But  I  say,"  said  the  priest,  calmly,"  it's  noting. 
It's  alia  right.     No  mattaire." 

"  Can  we  find  him  ?  Can  you  lead  us  to 
where  he  may  be  ? "  asked  Frank,  in  a  tremu- 
lous voice,  which  he  tried  in  vain  to  render  cool 
and  calm. 

"  Easy,"  said  the  priest,  "  easy.  Alia  right.  Be 
quiet.     Do  not  be  disteress." 

At  these  words  a  feeling  of  relief  began  to  come 
over  them.  The  calmness  of  the  priest  and  his 
assurances  diminished  their  anxiety  to  some  slight 
extent,  yet  not  very  greatly,  for  the  awful  danger 


144  THE  €EVEN  HILLS. 

of  tlio  Cfitacombs  had  been  most  vividly  impressed 
upon  their  minds  by  the  story  of  Anselmo,  and 
they  could  not  easily  rally  from  the  efl'ects  of  this 
new  sliock. 

The  priest  said  no  more,  but  led  the  way,  at  his 
former  rapid  pace,  in  the  same  direction  in  which 
they  had  been  going  when  Bob's  cry  stopped  them. 
After  a  short  time  they  found  themselves  once 
more  at  that  well-remembered  place  —  the  walled- 
up  passage-way,  the  white-washed  or  white-paint- 
ed stone,  the  big  black  cross. 

Tlie  priest  looked  up  and  down  in  all  directions, 
and  then  said,  — 

"  He  haf  got  fatigato,  and  haf  drop  behind. 
Some  of  us  sail  go  round  again,  and  sail  catch  up 
to  him ;  but  one  mus  stay  here.  Which  one  will 
stay?" 

He  looked  inquiringly  at  the  boys  as  he  said 
this.  None  of  them  responded.  They  all  wanted 
to  go  oft'  in  search  of  Uncle  Moses. 

The  priest  looked  at  Frank. 

"  Will  you  stay  ?  "  he  psked. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Frank,  "  if  you  wish  me  to." 

"  Yes ;  alia  right.  You  stay.  If  he  come  round, 
he  will  see  you,  and  understand.  If  he  don't,  we 
sail  catch  up  to  him." 

With  these  words  the  priest  went  off,  followed 
by  Clive,  David,  and  Bob,  while  Frank  stood  by 
the  walled-up  passage-way  marked  with  the  black 
cross,  and  waited. 


THE  SEARCH.  145 

The  others  followed  the  priest,  and  once  more 
'svcnt  over  the  route  which  they  had  already  twice 
traversed,  looking  out  carefully  for  Uncle  Moses. 
Tliey  came  once  more  to  the  chapel,  anl  then 
wont  on  as  before. 

Frank  stood  by  the  wallcd-up  passage  waiting, 
hoping  to  see  Uncle  Moses  make  his  appearance, 
toiling  along  through  the  gloom,  but  full  of  anxiety 
about  him,  nevertheless.  The  time  seemed  long. 
At  any  other  time-  he  would  have  felt  some  very 
unpleasant  sensations  at  being  left  thus  in  such  a 
place ;  but  now  his  anxiety  about  Uncle  Moses 
drove  away  eve  *y  superstitious  fancy.  At  length 
he  saw  a  faint  gleam  of  lights  far  down  the  dark 
passage-way  in  front.  Then  came  sounds  of  foot- 
steps, and  then  the  priest,  followed  by  others. 
Eagerly  Frank  looked  as  they  approached,  hoping 
to  see  Uncle  Moses;  eagerly  he  listened,  hoping  to 
hear  cries  of  joy ;  while  they,  on  their  part,  looked 
and  listened,  hoping  to  see  or  hear  some  encour- 
agement from  him.  Alas !  tliere  was  no  encour- 
aging sight,  no  encouraging  sound.  They  met  in 
silence.  None  asked  the  others  what  they  had  seen. 
It  was  too  painful  a  question,  and  all  knew  well 
what  the  answer  would  be.  Frank  in  his  lonely 
watch  had  seen  nothing.  The  others  had  gone 
their  round,  they  had  watched  carefully,  they  had 
called  and  screamed,  but  no  sight  and  no  sound 
had  come  to  satisfy  their  longing  hearts. 

The  priest  now  stood  and  looked  up  and  down 
10 


146  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

the  passages  in  silonco.  The  boys  saw  a  puzzled 
expression  on  liis  face,  which  to  tliem  seemed  hke 
tho  darkest  perplexity;  and  the  sight  of  thir,  niado 
their  hearts  sink  within  them,  I'or  he  was  their 
only  hop  J  and  reliance.  lie  seemed  to  be  perfect- 
ly familiar  with  these  paths.  He  had  led  them 
three  times  most  unerringly  from  this  blocked-np 
passage  with  the  cross-mark,  round  by  intricate 
ways,  and  back  again.  He  had  been  here  for 
years.  He  was  the  guide  of  the  Catacombs,  and 
must  be  as  familiar  with  these  intricate  passages 
as  ho  was  with  tho  streets  of  Home.  Yet  this 
man  now  stood,  and  seemed  to  bo  at  a  loss.  For 
Bucli  a  man  as  this  —  the  guide  of  the  Catacombs 
—  to  be  at  a  loss,  and  to  hesitate,  was  a  circum- 
stance which  for  the  boys  had  only  the  very  dark- 
est meaning,  and  tho  most  terrible  significance. 
If  he  should  be  despondent,  if  he  should  fail,  or 
even  falter,  what  hope  was  left  for  them  ?  And 
meanwhile,  where  was  Uncle  Moses  ?  While  they 
were  lingering  here,  where  was  he  ?  Was  he 
wandering  through  those  interminable  labyrinths, 
among  which  the  wretched  Anselmo  had  been  lost 
80  utterly?  Was  he  himself  thinking  of  that  sto- 
ry, and  in  his  despair  anticipating  a  like  fate  for 
himself?  Thoughts  like  these  were  horrible  ;  and 
these  were  the  thoughts  which  the  boys  had  as 
they  stood  there  and  saw  the  puzzled  face  of  the 
guide. 

At  last  he  spoke. 


WIIEUE   IS   UNCLE  MOSES?  147 

"  You  air  cortain  ilat  ho  como  to  dis  place  ?  " 

"  0,  yes,"  said  Frank,  "  and  he  complained 
about  the  damp,  and  was  afraid  of  the  rheu- 
mutism." 

"  Afraid  ?  ah  ;  an  complain  of  do  damp  ?  ah.  Ver 
good.     Don  perhaps  he  stay  bcliind.     Ha!" 

"  No,"  said  Bob,  sadlyl  "  for  he  went  with  us  all 
around.     I  went  last.     He  was  in  front  of  me." 

"  When  was  dat?" 

"Tiio  first  time  wo  went  around." 

"  Ah,  ver  good  I  Do  first  time  ?  Ver  good  I  An 
den  he  complain  of  do  damp?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank. 

"  H'm  !  "  said  tiie  guide. 

He  then  stood  in  deep  thought,  with  a  still  more 
puzzled  face. 

"  0,"  cried  David,  "  don't  let  us  waste  time. 
Let  us  be  off  again." 

"  But  we  haf  been,  an  he  is  not  dere,"  said  the 
guide. 

"  Then  let  us  go  to  another  place,"  said  Frank. 

"  Dere  is  no  oder,"  said  the  guide. 

"He's  wandered  off  into  some  side-passage," 
said  David,  "  and  lost  his  way.  0,  come !  0, 
think  1  Even  now  he  is  in  despair,  and  wondering 
why  we  don't  come  to  save  him." 

"  But  I  tell  you  dere  is  no  place  to  wander,'^ 
said  the  guide. 

"Why,  yes  there  is  1  We  passed  them  —  lots  of 
cross-passages,  you  know." 


148  THE  8KVEN   HILLS. 

"  Dcm  ?  0,  (lj\t  is  noting.  De  croas-pasaagos 
air  all  stopped  up.  No  one  can  go  trou  deni. 
Nobody  can  go  into  dcm  more  dan  tsvelf,  fiftoeu 
foot.  All  stopped  np.  No  chance  to  get  lost.  No 
possccbeeloetee.  Nobody  can  pass  into  do  oder 
parts  from  hero.  All  is  shut  up,  uu  barricade  wit 
walls  an  doors." 

"Is  that  really  so?"  cried  David,  with  inde- 
scribable relief. 

"  It  is  so,"  said  the  guide.  ''-  An  now  I  tell  you 
whar  he  really  is.     Ho  haf  gone  home." 

"  Gone  back  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Not  possibile  to  go  anywhar  else.  Ho 
gone  back.  Too  damp  hero.  'Fraid  rheumatismo  ; 
tired,  hungry,  or  anyting.  Any  way  he  gone  buck. 
Come." 

The  guide's  mind  was  made  up.  Having  said 
this,  he  started  off  with  a  vigorous  step,  and  an 
air  of  decision  from  which  there  was  no  appeal. 
The  boys  followed,  full  of  hope ;  and  before  long 
they  reached  the  place  of  entrance  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairway. 

The  guide  opened  the  door.  The  boys  rushed 
through. 

A  cry  escaped  them,  —  a  wild  cry  of  joy,  —  for 
there,  calmly  seated  on  the  steps,  calmly  leaning 
against  the  wall  in  a  particularly  easy  attitude, 
there  they  beheld  Uncle  Moses  himself  I 

"  Uncle  Moses  !  "  cried  all. 

Their  agitation,  their  joy,  their  reproaclves  soon 


UNCLE   MOSES'   EXPLVNATION.  149 

Tnf\f1o  all  known.  Undo  Mosos  was  full  of  rcmorso 
for  liiivinj^  caused  ho  rauch  troubio  and  pain.  But 
his  explanation  wag  a  very  simple  one,  and  soon 
made.  It  seemed  that  when  they  had  got  back  to 
the  cross,  after  their  first  round,  he  was  very  tired, 
and  very  much  afraid  of  the  rheumatism. 

"  I  knowed  that  thar  cross,"  said  he.  "  I  got  an 
eye  that's  been  trained  in  the  woods.  Anybody 
would  ha'  noticed  that  thar  cross,  but  me  in  par- 
tic'lar.  I  knowod  that  this  hero  entrance  wan't 
over  a  hundred  yards  away  in  a  straight  lino,  at 
least  not  very  much  more'n  that.  I  heard  tho 
priest  offer  to  go  another  round,  and  you  all  wantin 
to  go,  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  stop  you.  You  were 
all  a  enjyin  of  it  at  a  rate  that  was  a  wonder  to  me, 
and  I  knowed  that  if  I  said  I  was  fagged  out, 
you'd  all  give  up,  an  come  back  with  me.  But  I 
didn't  want  to  spoil  sport,  and  so  I  resolved  to 
come  back  alone.  I  knowed  there  wasn't  any  dan- 
ger. I  knowed  that  the  place  was  safe,  and  tho 
stories  all  bugaboo.  For  I  asked  the  guide  in  tho 
chapel  about  the  cross-passages,  an  he  told  me 
they  were  every  one  blocked  up,  every  one,  with- 
out exception,  so  that  nobidy  could  get  bst  here 
even  if  he  wanted  to.  Whereupon,"  concluded 
Uncle  Moses,  "  as  you  started,  off  I  slipped ;  an 
here  I  come,  an  here  I've  ben  ever  since,  takin 
my  ease,  an  wonderin  what's  ben  keepin  you  so 
long." 


150  THE   SEVEN  HILLS. 

This  explanation  made  all  clear.  The  boys  re- 
gained their  former  calmness.  Bob  was  himself 
again  at  once. 

^■'  Uncle  Moses,"  said  he,  in  a  solemn,  sepulchral 
voice,  "  this  will  be  a  warning  to  me.  After  this, 
I  will  never  let  you  go  out  of  my  sight." 


UNCLE  MOSES'   STORY.  151 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  Story  by  Uncle  Moses.  —  The  Exordium.  —  The  patriotic 
Pcdler.  —  The  haunted  House.  —  A  lonely  Vigil.  —  A 
terrific  Apparition.— Terrific  Disclosures.— An  awful 
Intcrvieiv.—  The  Bones  of  the  Dead.—  What  is  to  be 
done?  —  An  indignant  Ghost.  —  Numerous  Morals  in  a 
tremendous  Story. 

j^MHAT  tliar  priest  told  a  pooty  tough  story," 
Jy^  said  Uncle  Moses,  after  they  had  reached 
their  rooms,  and  were  making  a  comforta- 
ble evening  of  it ;  "a  pooty  tough  story  ;  an  I  saw 
that  it  took  a  kine  of  a  holt  of  you  boys  that  pained 
me  to  see.  For  I  couldn't  help  perceivin  that  you 
were  aU  a  leetle  mite  afeard  of  ghosts  an  things. 
Now,  my  idee  is,  that  superstition's  one  of  the  very 
wust  things  that  could  get  hold  of  a  person, 
whether  boy  or  man ;  an  for  my  own  part,  I  ain't 
ever  had  a  mite  of  that  tliar  feelin  ever  sence  I 
I  heard  a  story  that  used  to  be  told  by  my  wife's 
uncle  —  Uncle  Tobias  we  used  to  call  him  ;  an  a 
very  odd,  eccentric  sort  of  a  character  ho  was, 
too.  But  his  story  knocks  the  priest's  story  all 
holler." 

"  A  story  I  "  cried  all  the  boys ;  "  0,  tcFi  us  it ;  " 


152  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

and  with  these  words  they  all  gathered  nearer 
Uncle  Moses. 

"  Wal,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  I  don't  care  if  I  do, 
bein  as  thar's  a  mor'l  to  it,  an  bein  as  I  see  that 
you're  all  kine  o'  superstitious,  and  are  apt  to  be 
frightened  by  ghosts.  Now,  from  the  story  of 
Uncle  Tobias  you'll  larn  that  sich  sentiments 
hadn't  ought  to  be  indulged. 

"  Wal,"  began  Uncle  Moses,  "  this  Uncle  To- 
bias was  a  pcdler.  In  the  pursuit  of  that  elevated 
an  honorable  call  in  lie  travelled  from  one  end  to 
the  other  of  our  great  and  glorious  Union  larnin 
every  day  to  admire  more  an  more  the  great  an 
immortal  principles  of  '76  for  which  our  fathers 
fought  an  bled  an  out  of  whose  ashes  arose  the 
American  eagle  phoenix-like  whose  screams  now 
are  heard  throughout  the  earth  to  the  terror  of 
tyrants  an  foreign  despots  an  long  may  it  wave 
o'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the 
brave  I " 

Uncle  Moses  had  poured  forth  this  astonishing 
sentence  without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to 
punctuation  marks.  On  his  stopping  to  take  breath 
the  boys  burst  into  shouts  of  laughter. 

"  Uncle  Moses,"  said  Bob,  "  you  must  have 
given  a  Fourth  of  July  oration  once.  You  did, 
now ;  own  up." 

"  Wal,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  with  a  smile,  "  how- 
ever you  guessed  that  beats  all.  I  did  once,  when 
1  was  a  young  man,  in  my  courtia  days,  an  made  it 


UNCLE  MOSES'   STORY.  153 

Tip,  an  larned  it  by  heart ;  an  I've  jost  gov  you 
the  openin  sentence,  for  1  remember  it  to  this 
day.  It's  a  kind  of  convenient  introduction  to  a 
story,  and  makes  it  move  on  comfortabler.  An 
now  hevin  hred  off  tliat,  I'll  contennoo  without 
digression. 

"  Uncle  Tobias,  then,  was  a  pedlcr  ;  an  as  sich  he 
L  wandered  through  a  most  every  town  and  dees- 
trick  in  tiie  country,  havin  leady  access  to  the 
\  homos  and  hearts  of  all.  Now,  it  happened,  in  tlie 
course  of  his  wanderins,  that  he  once  came  to  a 
town  in  North  C'iina.  It  chanced  tliat  there  was 
an  old  house  there,  by  far  the  best  in  the  place, 
which  for  fifteen  years  had  been  uninhalnted.  In 
short,  it  was  a  haunted  house.  Jest  fifteen  years 
before,  the  tenant  had  disappeared  under  dreadful 
mysterious  circumstances,  and  had  never  been 
heerd  tell  of  senco.  People  all  said  he'd  ben 
murdered ;  but  not  a  trace  of  any  murder,  and  not 
a  sign  of  any  violence,  had  ever  ben  discovered. 
The  trouble  was,  however,  that  from  that  time  on, 
the  house  began  to  be  haunted.  People  darsn't 
live  in  it.  Them  that  tried  to  do  it  were  druv  out. 
They  were  all  skeart  at  the  horrible  noises  and  the 
horrible  sights  The  owner  got  into  despair.  He 
offered  a  big  reward  to  anybod}'-  that  would  find  out 
what  the  trouble  was,  and  drive  off  the  sperits,  ef 
they  were  aperits.  He  tried  all  the  parsons  in  the 
state.  No  use.  He  fumigated  it  with  sulphur.  No 
go.     Still  he  hoped  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  the  dif- 


154  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

ficulty,  an  every  little  while  somebody  would  try  to 
face  tlie  sporits.     They  couldn't  do  it. 

"  Now,  all  this  time,  mind  you,  boys,  he  had  never 
come  across  a  rail  live  ginooine  Yankee.  .   , 

"  Uncle  Tobias  was  the  first  critter  of  that  breed 
that  travelled  into  these  benighted  regions,  though 
Bence  that  eventfool  time,"  added  Uncle  Moses, 
with  a  dry  smile,  "  there  hev  been  whole  armies 
of  them  thereabouts.  I  guess,  at  any  rate,  he  was 
the  fust  one  there  ;  an  when  ho  heard  the  story,  he 
felt  that  at  last  a  crisis  had  riz  in  his  destiny. 
The  property  was  a  fine  one.  The  house  was  of 
stone,  an  very  valooble.  To  save  it  and  make 
it  habitable  was  wuth  a  great  deal  ;  an  so  tho 
owner  offered  a  thousand  dollars  cash  to  any  one 
that'd  do  it  for  him.  So  Uncle  Tobias  felt  as 
though  he  was  the  very  man  into  whose  pockets 
them  thousand  dollars  had  ought  to  go.  It  was 
jest  the  amount  that  he  wanted  for  some  leetle 
speclations  that  he  had  under  way;  an  besides  he 
knowed  that  ef  he  succeeded,  it  would  be  sech  an 
advertisement  for  him  as  he  never  had  before. 
He  could  sell  out  his  traps,  git  home,  an  go  into  a 
settled  b^*?;. 

"  When  he  went  to  the  owner  with  his  proposal, 
he  was  received  with  a  hearty  weloome.  The 
thousand  dollars  were  promised,  solemn,  an  to 
make  all  sure,  Uncle  Tobias  got  it  down  in  black 
and  white.  The  owner  didn't  expect  that  he 
would  succeed,  and  Uncle  Tobias  kept   calm,  an 


UNCLE   MOSES'   STORY.  155 

refrained  from  boastin,  like  a  true  Yankee,  as 
he  was. 

"  Wal,  tlie  evenin  came,  an  thar  was  Uncle  To- 
bias, locked  up  in  t'le  house  wi  Ji  a  good  lire,  two 
lumps  well  filled,  a  kittle  of  water,  sugar,  whiskey, 
and  a  revolver  convenient.  He  went  there  at  ten 
o'clock,  an  soon  felt  quite  comfortable.  He  had  a 
rocking-chair  on  one  side  of  the  fire,  while  on  the 
other  was  a  large  easy-chair. 

"  For  full  two  hours  nothin;^  happened.  At  iho 
end  of  that  time  it  was  midnight,  an  Uncle  Tobias 
began  to  think  he'd  make  his  money  easy  enough, 
when  all  of  a  F^udden  there  riz  the  greatest  row 
tliat  anybody  ever  heerd  since  the  world  begun. 
The  house  shook,  the  doors  banged,  the  Avindows 
rattled,  the  tramp  of  footsteps  was  heerd  all  around, 
and  yells  and  shrieks  came  through  the  air.  Sud- 
denly the  door  bust  open,  and  two  figures  appeared. 
One  was  a  stout,  middle-aged  man,  who  dragged 
after  him  an  old  man  that  seemed  kino  o'  lifeless. 
He  dragged  him  through  one  door  into  the  room, 
an  out  of  the  room  through  another  door. 

"  Uncle  Tobias  sat  watching  this  closely  without 
muvin,  looking  hard  at  the  figures.  This  hero 
scene  was  repeated  three  times.  So  Uncle  Tobias 
waited  as  patient  as  a  lamb  for  the  next.  Wal,  the 
row  begun  agin,  the  door  bust  open,  and,  sure 
enough,  thar  were  the  same  figures.  At  that 
Uncle  Tobias  riz  from  his  seat. 

"  '  Gentlemen,'  says  he, '  allow  me  to  remark  that 


156  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

this  here  scene's  ben  represented  three  times 
already,  an  I  rize  to  respectfully  submit  that  tliis 
here's  beginnin  to  get  l^ine  o'  tiresome,  an  to  propose 
tliat  you  start  somethin  fresh.  This  is  all  very 
well  in  its  way,  but  when  repeated  too  often,  it 
does  grow  monotonous.  1  feel  confident  that 
enlightened  gentlemen,  like  you,  have  too  much 
originality  to  require  any  further  suggestions.' 

"  An  with  this  he  sot  down  agin  ;  upon  which  the 
two  figures  retreated  by  the  door  by  which  they 
entered  without  actin  their  show  agin. 

"  Wal,  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  passed,  an 
then  thar  was  a  thundorin  row,  wuss  than  before. 
The  door  opened  and  a  figure  entered.  It  was  the 
fibrure  of  an  old  man,  and  looked  exactlv  like  the 
party  that  had  been  dragged  about  a  short  time 
before.  And  all  around  it  was  a  damp,  mouldy 
robe,  that  kep  a  drippin,  an  a  drippin,  an  a  de-rippin 
with  kellammy  moister,  an  the  face  was  all  gray 
an  greenish,"  continued  Uncle  Moses,  in  slow, 
lugubrious  tones,  "  an  it  was  all  kivered  with 
meould,  an  tlie  har  seemed  jest  on  the  pint  of 
droppin  off  from  utter  decay,  an  the  expression  on 
that  gray,  green,  grim  face  was  torewly  heejus ; 
a  horrid  grin  was  on  its  white  teeth,  an  the  cold, 
watery  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  Uncle  Tobias 
with  a  round,  glassy  stare  I 

"  Wal,  as  Uncle  Tobias  saw  this  figure  advancin, 
he  rose  an  faced  it ;  an  as  it  came  up  quite  cl'^se, 
Uiiclo  Tobias  made  a  bow. 


UNCLE   MOSES'   SlJRY.  157 

"  *  Good  evening,  sivj  said  Uncle  Tobias,  briskly 
an  politely.  'I  take  this  quite  kind  in  you.  This 
looks  like  biz,  at  last,  an  I  hope  to  liave  the  pleas- 
ure of*  a  brief  conversation  with  you.' 

"  The  figure  at  this  stared,  but  said  not  a  word. 

'<  <■  Pray  be  seated,'  said  Uncle  Tobias,  as  polite 
as  ever.  '  Allow  ine ; '  an  he  drawed  up  the 
easy-chair  nearer.  ^  Do  you  find  the  fire  warm 
enough  ? ' 

"  The  figure  still  stared  without  saying  anythin. 

"'Wal,'  said  Uncle  Tobias,  'of  I  chose  to  bo 
uncivil,  I  mujht  say  that  you  made  noise  enough 
a  while  ago,  and  that  your  silence  jest  now  ain't 
creditable  either  to  your  head  or  your  heart. 
Perhaps  your  stOut  friend  out  there  may  be  more 
communicative.' 

"  The  figure  shook  its  head. 

"'No?'  said  Uncle  Tobias.  '  Wal,  that's  odd; 
an  so  you  won't  set  down  ?  Won't  you  take  some- 
thin  to  drink  then?  a  drop  of  whiskey  ?  What! 
No,  again?  —  not  even  Avhiskey?  Wal,  now,  you 
air  a  little  odd,  tew.  However,  scnce  you  won't 
liquor  yourself,  Pll  take  the  liberty  of  drinkin.  Sir, 
your  very  good  health.' 

"  An  with  this  he  drank  off  a  glass  of  whiskey. 

"  Putting  it  down  again,  as  he  smacked  his  lips 
he  winked  at  the  figure,  an  surveyed  it  with  a 
patronizin  an  benevolint  smile. 

"  The  figure,  mind  you,  boys,  had  all  this  time 
kep  its  eyes  fixed  on  Uncle  Tobias  with  a  grim, 


158  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

ghostly  look.  As  Uncle  Tobias  now  surveyed  it, 
it  stretched  forth  a  long,  thin,  shurrivelled,  sulliiny 
arm,  and  with  its  damp,  clammy,  bony  hand,  it 
beckoned.  Then  it  began  to  move  on  towards 
tho  door. 

"  '  You  want  me  to  follow  you  —  is  that  it  ? '  said 
Uncle  Tobias.  *  Wal,  p'aps  you'll  be  more  com- 
municative. Pray  go  fust.  No  ceremony.  I'll 
follor.' 

"  An  sayin  this,  as  polite  as  ever,  Uncle  Tobias 
took  one  of  the  liglits,  and  puttin  the  revolver  in 
his  breast  pocket,  proceeded  after  the  figure. 

"  An  now  that  tliar  figure  led  the  way  through 
the  hall  an  down  into  the  cellar.  Uncle  Tobias 
followed.  At  the  foot  of  the  steps  the  figure  stood 
an  pointed  at  somethin  which  was  lyin  on  the  floor. 
Unc^e  Tobias  looked  down,  an  saw  that  it  was  a 
spade,  which  had  probably  been  used  here  recently 
by  some  workmen,  an  left  behind.  To  this  the 
figure  pointed.  Uncle  Tobias  understood  him,  and 
picked  it  up. 

"  The  figure  now  moved  away  to  a  corner  of  tho 
cellar,  and  stood  still,  pointin  with  its  long,  bony 
finger  to  the  ground,  an  fixing  its  big,  round,  ghostly 
eyes  on  Uncle  Tobias.  The  floor  was  of  bare  earth, 
and  had  never  been  covered  over. 

" '  Do  you  want  me  to  dig  ? '  asked  Uncle 
Tobias. 

"  '^he  figure  nodded. 

"  Uncle  Tobias  then  put  the  lamp  on  the  ground. 


iJNCLE   MOSES'   STORY.  169 

'  Wal,  sir/  said  lio, '  if  this  here's  a  goin  to  bo  a 
money  pot,  I'll  give  you  the  credit  of  it,  an  never 
let  a  word  be  spoke  agin  you/ 

"  To  this  the  figure  made  no  reply,  an  Undo 
Tobias  then  went  on  diggin  like  all  possessed. 
The  airth  was  softish,  an  before  long  ho  had  made 
a  hole  a  foot  deep.  Then  his  spade  struck  some- 
thin  white.  He  threw  it  out.  An  what  do  vou 
think  it  was?     Why,  it  was  a  human  bone! 

"  At  this  Uncle  Tobias  gave  a  long  whistle,  an 
then  drawin  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  he  stood 
look  in  at  the  figure. 

" '  Now,  sir,'  said  ho,  a  little  stiff,  '  we've  got 
to  ondcrstand  one  another.  An  fust,  is  this  here 
what  you  want  me  to  dig  up  for  you  ?  ' 

"  The  figure  nodded. 

"  At  this  Uncle  Tobias  lost  his  patience  teetotally. 
It  was  a  awful  disappintment,  you  see.  '  What ! ' 
he  said,^  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  take  me  for 
such  a  born  fool  as  that,  to  come  here  and  dig  np 
a  lot  of  old  bones,  an  me  thinkin  it  was  a  buried 
treasure  ?  Why,  what  sort  of  people  have  you 
been  livin  among  ?  ' 

"  And  stoopin  down  indignantly,  he  took  tlie 
lamp,  laid  the  spade  down,  and  strode  back  up  the 
stairs  into  the  room.  Here  he  took  a  glass  of 
whiskey,  and  resumed  his  seat  by  the  fire,  lighted 
his  pipe,  and  begun  to  smoke,  to  soothe  his  disap- 
pintment. He  hadn't  drawed  more'n  a  dozen 
whiffs,  when  the  figure  came  into  the  room  an 
stood  close  by  '\^\\\\. 


ICO  THE  SEVEN   niLL3. 

" '  Wal,  olfl  gentleman/  said  Uncle  Tobias,  in  a 
dry  voice, '  you've  ben  an  gone  an  humbugged  mo 
nicely  —  ain't  you  ?  Still  I  don't  bar  malice,  an  ef 
you  want  to  set  down,  why,  thar's  a  cha-r  for  you.' 

"  The  figure  shook  its  head. 

"  *  You  seem  to  be  kine  o'  dumb,'  said  Uncle 
Tobias,  knockin  the  ashes  out  of  the  bowl  of  1  N 
pipe.     '  Anytliin  the  matter  ?  ' 

*'  Tlie  figure  shook  its  head. 

"  '  Wal,'  said  Uncle  Tobias,  after  a  few  moments' 
reflection.  '  P'aps  you  can  tell  me  this.  Was. 
there,  or  was  there  not,  a  murder  done  on  these 
here  premises.' 

"  The  figure  nodded,  with  an  awful  look. 

"  '  Il'm,'  said  Uncle  Tobias;  'an  now,  my  friend, 
one  more  question.  Air  you  the  party  that  —  a  — 
come  to  grief,  eh?' 

"  The  figure  nodded. 

" '  Now,  see  here,  my  friend,'  contenooed  Uncle 
Tobias,  in  a  remonstrative  tone.  '  You  must  want 
something ;  so  why  don't  you  speak  up  like  a  —  a 
—  sperit?  Perhaps  if  you  took  a  drink  it  would 
do  you  good.  At  any  rate  you'd  better  tell  me,  up 
an  down,  exactly  what  it  is  you  want,  an  not  stand 
there  starin  like  a  born  fool.' 

"  At  this  a  deep  moan  issued  from  the  figure, 
an  then  a  sound,  which  Uncle  Tobias  said  was  like 
the  sighin  of  the  \vind,  escaped,  an  it  wan't 
louder  than  a  whisper,  — 

"'I  —  want  —  my  —  bones  —  buried/  said  the 
figure. 


UNCLE   MOSES'   STORY.  IGl 

"'Bones?  H'm.  Buried?  IT'm/  said  ITnclo 
Tobias.  'So  them  air  your  bones — air  they? 
Buried?     Why,  ain't  they  buried?' 

"  ♦  I  want  tliem   buried  proper/  said  the  figure, 

*  in  oonsecrated  ground.' 
"  Undo  Tobias    looked  at  the   figure   thought- 
fully. 

"  •  What  makes  you  kick  up  such  a  row  hero  ? ' 
ho  asked. 

"  *  I'm  bound  to  the  place  where  my  bones  lay 
unburied/  said  tiie  figure,  in  a  voice  that  sounded 
like  the  last  dying  wail  of  some  passing  night  blast. 

" '  Wal,  an  if  they  wore  took  away,  would  you 
stop  your  noise  ?  '  asked  Uncle  Tobias. 

"  '  I  must  go  where  my  bones  go,'  said  the  figure, 

"  '  An  would  you  contennoo  to  make  this  tre-men- 
jous  uproar?'  asked  Uncle  Tobias,  eagerly. 

"'1  must  make  an  uproar,'  said  the  figure,  'till 
my  bones  air  buried.  Every  night  T  must  rehearse 
the  scene  of  my  murder.' 

" '  Whew ! '  said  Uncle  Tobias,  with   a  whistle. 

*  So  —  tliat's  —  the  —  arrangement  —  is  —  it  ? 
Wal,   you   must   have    been   liavin   a   pooty   high 

;    time  of  it  these  last  fifteen  years  ;  that's  all  I  can 
say.     An  that  stout  party  —  was  he  the  party  — 
that  —  a  —  a  —  that  —  a  —  a  —  fixed  you  ? ' 
"  The  figure  nodded. 

"  Uncle  Tobias  remained  in  a  meditative  atti- 
tude for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  he  looked  at  the 
figure,  that  never  took  its  eyes  away. 

11 


162  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

"  '  Come,  now/  said  Uncle  Tobias.  '  Look  liorc  j 
I  mean  business.  I  want  you  to  clear  out  IVoni 
these  here  premises  —  bag  and  baggage  —  bones 
and  all.  You've  ben  hero  long  enough.  Now, 
what'll  you  take  to  evacuate  ? ' 

"  The  figure  replied, in  the  same  voice  as  before, — 

" '  Bury  my  bones,  an  bring  my  murderer  to 
justice.' 

"  Uncle  Tobias  meditated  over  this  for  some 
time. 

"  ^  So,  that's  your  ultimatum,  old  gentleman  —  is 
it?'  ho  asked  at  length.         ,    .    . 

"  Tlie  figure  nodded. 

"  '  An  you  won't  take  a  drink  ?  '      •  u 

"  Tiie  figure  shook  its  head. 

"  '  Nor  set  down  ?  ' 

"  The  figure  shook  its  head. 

"  *  You  needn't  bo  the  least  bit  afeard  o'  me,  you 
know,'  remarked  Uncle  Tobias,  in  a  tone  meant  to 
reassure  his  companion ;  *  I  won't  hurt  you.  'Tain't 
in  me  to  hurt  any  one.' 

"  The  figure  stared  at  him  Avith  its  awful  eyes. 

"Uncle  Tobias  once  more  fell  into  deep  thought. 
At  last  he  looked  up,  and  again  addressed  the 
figure. 

"  '  Bury  your  bones  —  h'm  —  an  bring  your 
murderer  to  justice,  is  it?  Wal,  old  gentleman — ■ 
I  may  do  the  fust  —  but  as  to  the  second  —  not  if 
I  know  it.  Bring  him  to  justice  ?  ^''^hy,  whar  air 
the  proofs.  See  here,  now ;  will  you  undertake  to 
come  into  court,  an  stand  in  the  witness  box  ? ' 


UNCLE  MOSES*  STORY.  163 

"  Tlio  fip^urc  shook  its  head. 

"'Of  courso  not.  Tlicro  it  is,  you  sco/  said 
Uncle  Tobias.  '  I  am  to  have  all  tlio  trouble,  an 
you  ain't  goin  to  turn  a  finger.  0,  no  —  not  you. 
And  who  is  this  party?     Name  him.' 

"  The  figure  named  him. 

"  <  Tliiit  party  ? '  said  Uncle  Tobias.  '  Why,  he's 
a  leading  man  in  these  parts.  What !  do  you  think 
I'm  such  a  fool  as  to  raise  a  row  with  him? 
No,  sir.' 

" '  Then  I  must  remain  here/  said  the  figure,  with 
a  low  wail. 

"  Uncle  Tobias  looked  at  it  earnestly,  and  shook 
his  head. 

"  '  Not  at  all,  old  gentleman.  Excuse  we  —  but 
you  ain't  goin  to  do  nothin  of  the  kind.  Contrari- 
wise, you've  got  to  come  with  me.' 

"  '  With  1J0U ! '  wailed  the  figure. 

"Uncle  Tobias  rose  to  his  feet,  and  laid  his  pipe 
on  the  table,  an  insenuated  his  thumbs  into  the 
arm-holes  of  his  vest,  —  a  favorite  position,  —  an  in 
that  thar  attitude  confronted  the  awful  figure  face 
to  face. 

"  *  See  here,  old  gentleman,'  said  he  ;  '  you've  got 
to  follow  your  bones,  you  know.  Wal,  I  mean  to 
take  them  up,  an  carry  them  about  with  me  — ' 

"  '  With* you  !^  wailed  the  figure,  a  second  time. 

"  '  Yes,  sir,'  said  Uncle  Tobias  ;  '  an  all  I've  got 
to  say  is,  that  ef  you  feel  equal  to  sich  trpmenjons 
performances  as  you've  ben  a  exhibitin  of  to  me  to- 


164  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

night,  and  can  keep  em  up,  and  can  indooce  tliat 
other  party  to  lend  a  hand  —  why,  there  ain't  a 
show,  or  a  circus,  or  a  museum,  or  a  waxwork, — 
no,  sir,  there  ain't  nothin  on  this  green  airth  that'll 
come  within  a  thousand  mile  of  the  exhibition 
that  I'll  be  in  a  po-sition  to  offer  to  the  public.  Ir^o 
look  alive  old  gentleman.  You've  got  to  go  with 
me ;  an  I  mean  to  exhibit  you  throughout  the 
length  an  breadth  of  these  here  United  States,  at 
midnight,  twenty-five  cents  a  head,  children  half 
price  — ' 

*'  The  figure  staggered  back.  Its  eyes  rolled 
fearfully.  A  shriek,  loud  as 'a  peal  of  thunder, 
escaped  its  lips,  and  in  an  instant  it  had  vanished. 

"  Wal,  Uncle  Tobias  waited  for  a  time,  but  the 
figure  didn't  come  back.  He  then  went  down,  an 
dug  up  the  bones.  Then  he  went  back,  an  fell 
asleep.  When  he  waked  it  was  morn'n.  He  went 
to  the  hotel  for  his  wagon  and  an  empty  trunk,  came 
back  to  the  haunted  house,  put  the  bones  in  the 
empty  trunk,  and  then  returned  to  the  hotel. 

"  He  waited  on  the  owner,  an  indooced  that  gen- 
tleman an  a  party  of  friends  to  go  to  the  house  on 
the  following  night.  They  did  so,  an  staid  all 
night ;  but  thar  wan't  a  sound.  For  a  month  dif- 
ferent parties  stopped  there,  but  the  houL;e  was 
quiet.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the  owner  paid 
Uncle  Tobias  th'3  thousand  dollars,  repaired  the 
house,  an  went  to  live  in  it  himself.  As  foY  the 
bones,  Uncle  Tobias  said  he  never  found  them  of 


UNCLE  MOSES'  STORY.  165 

any  use  —  not  a  mite.  He  watched  several  nights, 
but  the  figure  wouldn't  come.  He  kept  em  a 
whole  year,  an  at  last  concluded  to  have  em  buried 
reg'lar,  in  consecrated  ground.  He  -did  so,  and 
never  heerd  mythin  more,  or  saw  anythin  more, 
of  that  thar  figure.  He  alius  declared  that  he'd 
friglitened  the  figure  away." 

After  Uncle  Moses  had  ceased,  there  was  silence 
for  some  time.     At  length  Frank  exclaimed, —   , 
,    "  What  a  tremendouiL  story  !  " 

"  It  beats  the  priest's  all  hvollow,"  said  Clive. 

"  Well,  Uncle  Moses,"  said  Bob,  "  how  you,  with 
such  a  story  as  that,  could  have  been  with  us  all 
these  years,  and  never  fired  it  off  before,  is  utterly 
beyond  my  comprehension." 

"  But,"  said  David,  "  I  don't  understand.  Did 
your  Uncle  Tobias  tell  that  to  you  as  real  ?  " 

"  Wal  —  yes  -he  llus  did,"  said  Uncle  Moses; 
"  though  I  don't  knc  "^  that  he  ever  objected  to 
havin  it  took  allegorical." 

"  But  was  it  real  ?  "  asked  David.  "  How  could 
it  have  been  ?  Still  he  must  have  taken  the  bcnes 
away." 

"  Wal,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  it's  a  story  that  I've 
thought  a  good  deal  over;  an  I  see  my  way  io  ac- 
count for  it  in  various  ways.  Fust  and  foremost, 
Uncle  Tobias,  in  them  ^ays,  was  a  free  drinker,  an 
may  have  had  a  turn  at  delirium  tremens.  That 
would  account  for  everything.  Besides,  he  himr 
self  says  he  was  drinkin  whiskey  all  night." 


106  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

"  But  how  could  ho  have  dug  up  the  bones  ? '' 

"  Wal,  I  dar  say  he  heard  some  talk  about  the 
bones  before  he  went  thar.  The  spade  in  the 
cellar  looks  ae  if  some  one  had  bin  explorin  around. 
Then,  again,  there's  another  thing ;  he  may've  been 
asleep,  and  dreamed  it  all." 

"But  mayn't  some  people  have  tricked  him?" 
suggested  Clive.' 

"Wal  —  hardly,"  said  Uncle  Moses  ;  "not  when 
he  iiad  that  thar  revolver.  Besides,  they  came  so 
close,  an  he  saw  them  so  plain,  that  it  couldn't  hev 
ben  livin  man.  It  must  hev  been  dreams ;  or,  as 
I  think,  delirium  tremens." 

''  But  how  did  it  happen  thnt  the  noises  stopped 
after  that  night  ?  " 

*  "  Wal  —  p'aps  the  noises  had  never  been 
thoroughly  explored.  No  doubt  rats  did  it  all ; 
an  the  example  of  Uncle  Tobias,  an  his  departure 
with  the  bones,  destroyed  all  further  fears,  an  gave 
confidence.  People  went  there  to  watch  after- 
wards, staid  all  -night,  and  weren't  troubled.  It 
was  all  the  work  of  Uncle  Tobias,  an  he  aimed  his 
thousand  dollars  honest. 

"  But,  boys,"  continued  Uncle  Moses,  "  this  ain't 
all.  It  can  be  took  allegorical.  The  beauty  of  the 
story  of  Uncle  Tobias  is,  that  it  has  a  mor'l.  An 
the  mor'l  of  it  is,  that  nobody  hadn't  ought  ever 
to  bother  his  head  about  imaginary  evils ;  an  that 
thar's  lots  of  things  that  seem  terrible,  an  have  ony 
got  to  be  faced  like  a  man,  an  they  turn  out  to  bo 


APPLICATION   OF  THE  STORY.  167 

nothin.  An  another  mor'l  is,  nothin  ventur,  nothin 
hev;  an  another  mor'l  is,  appearances  often  de- 
ceive. An,  0 !  thar's  lots  oi'  more  mor'ls ;  for 
instance,  one  is  to  bewar  of  the  intoxicatin  .bowl ; 
an  another,  v/hich  has  reference  to  the  superstitious 
owner  who  lost  a  thousand  dollars,  and  may  be 
stated  as  —  never  leave  to  others  what  may  be  done 
by  yourself;  an  another,  bearin  upon  the  thought- 
less confession  of  the  apparition  —  don't  be  too 
coniidin  to  strangers ;  an  another,  toucliing  upon 
the  written  agreement  that  Uncle  Tobias  got  out 
of  the  owner  —  a  bird  in  the  hand's  wuth  two  in 
the  bush;  an  anotlier  —  time  an  tide  wait  for  no 
man.     An  thar's  lots  of  others,  but  —  " 

Uncle  Moses  M^as  interrupted  by  a  groan.  ITo 
started,  stopped,  and  looked  around.  The  groan 
came  from  Bob.  lie  was  lying  on  the  sofa.  Uncle 
Moses  hurried  over  to  him  with  terror  in  his  heart. 
Had  he  fainted  with  fear  at  this  dismal  story  ? 

He  turned  him  over. 

No;  it  was  not  a  faint.  Poor  Bob,  tired  out 
with  a  hard  day^s  work,  had  gone  asleep  during 
these  moralizings.  The  others  also  were  all  nod- 
ding in  their  chairs. 

"  It's  time  to  go  to  bed,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Moses, 
gently. 


168  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 


CHAi^TER  Xm. 

The  Heart  of  Rojjte.  —  A  weary  Way.  —  77/1?  Network  of 
Streets. —  The  long  Street  and  open  Square.  —  Piazza 
del  Popolo  and  Pincian  Hill.  —  The  Egyptian  Obelisks. 
—  How  came  they  here  ?  —  The  Italian  Engineer  and  the 
English  Sailor. —  The  giaiit  Fountain. —  The  Treasures 
of  the  Tiber, 

JHUS  far  the  wanderings  of  tlie  boys  had 
taken  place  chiefly  among  the  ancient  parts 
of  Rome.  It  was  natural  that  their  first  im- 
pulse should  be,  as  it  was,  St.  Peter's,  and  then  those 
hoary  ruins  which  speak  so  eloquently  of  the  fallen 
greatness  of  the  ancient  capital  of  the  world. 
After  this  it  was  equally  natural  that  they  should 
wish  to  see  the  modern  city  —  the  Rome  of  to-day  ; 
that  city  with  its  contrasts  of  mediiBval  gloom  and 
modern  smartness,  of  splendor  and  squalor,  of  mag- 
nificence and  decay.  They  wished  to  traverse  it 
in  their  usual  fashion,  at  random,  without  any 
guide ;  to  see  things  for  themselves,  to  form  their 
own  impressions,  and  to  judge  from  the  living  fact, 
and  not  from  guide  or  guide-book.  Tlieir  guide- 
book they  of  course  took,  and  their  map  ah.o,  so  as 


THE   MODERN   CITr.  1G9 

to  see  the  nature  of  each  tiling  wliich  they  might 
encounter ;  but  tliey  followed  no  order,  and  merely 
wandered  about  at  random. 

Uncle  Moses  accompanied  them.  He  dared  not 
trust  the  boys  out  of  his  sight,  and  was  afraid  of 
their  falling  into  some  fresh  difliculty.  Bob,  on 
the  other  hand,  speaking  in  behalf  of  the  boys,  de- 
clared that  he  could  not  trust  Uncle  Moses  out  of 
his  sight,  and  that  he  dreaded  some  evil  to  him  if 
they  were  to  leo"'^  him  behind.  And  thus  Uncle 
Moses  became  i  eir  companion,  and  a  weary,  weary 
way  it  was  in  which  they  made  him  go."  For  they 
were  young,  enthusiastic,  fond  of  activity,  pleased 
with  novel  sights  and  scenes,  while  he  would  much 
rather  have  remained  in  some  snug  corner,  resting 
his  wearied  limbs,  or  have  sauntered  at  a  moderate 
pace  over  some  more  restricted  scene.  This,  how- 
ever, his  anxiety  for  the  boys,  always  keen,  but 
now  much  more  so  since  their  recent  adventures, 
would  not  allow  him  to  do ;  and  so  he  felt  himself 
bound  to  toil  on  after  them  in  their  wayward 
career. 

Thus,  therefore,  without  any  plan,  they  plunged 
into  the  heart  of  Rome.  They  found  the  streets 
narrow,  and  the  houses  high  and  gloomy.  Most 
of  them  enclosed  a  court-yard,  and  were  inhabited 
by  families  in  stories.  There  were  numerous  wine 
shops  and  provision  shops.  The  pavement  of  the 
streets  was  of  irregular  blocks  of  a  dark  stone. 
There  were  no   sidewalks,  but  the   gutter  was  in 


170  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

the  middle.  They  saw  Rome  at  its  best,  for  at  this 
Beason  of  the  year  it  is  always  cleaned  up  for  the 
reception  of  the  crowds  of  visitors  who  flock  here 
at  this  time,  and  therefore  coukl  not  know,  or  even 
imagine,  the  unspeakable  abominations  which  the 
streets  of  Rome  present  after  a  year's  neglect.  On 
the  score  of  cleanliness,  therefore,  they  had  but  lit- 
tle occasion  to  find  fault.  «^ 

They  wandered  on  through  many  of  these  nar- 
row streets,  now  coming  out  into  some  square,  and 
then  onco  more  plunging  into  the  network  of  un- 
known ways.  At  last  they  found  themselves  in  a 
street  which  was  very  long,  of  respectable  breadth, 
and  of  a  decidedly  modern  aspect,  for  it  had  side- 
walks, and  shops  appoared  which  had. quite  a  mod- 
ern air.  A  short  walk  onward  enabled  them  to 
recognize  in  it  the  Corso,  the  chief  street  of  Rome. 
Its  character,  on  the  whole,  entitled  it  to  the  epi- 
thet of  magnificent,  which  has  sometimes  been  be- 
stowed upon  it ;  for,  thoiigh  there  was  much  here 
of  a  common  kind,  still  its  general  appearance  was 
decidedly  picturesque,  and  here  and  there  an  edi-^, 
fice  of  distinguished  grandeur  conspired  to  give  an 
elevated  character  to  the  whole  street. 

They  walked  along  its  whole  length,  and  at 
last  reached  a  spacious  place,  which  they  found 
to  be  the  Piazza  del  Popolo.  Where  the  Corso 
joins  this  place  two  domed  churches  arise  on  either 
side ;  on  the  fiirther  side  of  the  place  is  a  gateway, 
and  in  the  middle  a  lofty  Egyptian  obelisk  raises 


•    THE   PINCIAN  HILL.  171 

its  taper  form,  in  a  sirij^le  shaft,  into  the  skies  to 
the  lioight  of  about  ninety  feet. 

On  one  side  is  a  hill,  which  is  approached  from 
the  Piazza  del  Po})olo  by  a  winding  carriage-way. 
This  is  the  Pincian  Hill,  the  great  resort  of  the 
pleasure-loving  Romans.  Here  every  afternoon 
during  the  season  the  whole  city  seems  to  flock. 
The  drives  are  beautiful.  All  around  there  are 
trees,  and  shrubbery,  and  ma.ble  vases,  and  sculp- 
tured figures.  Here  pedestrians  come  and  lounge,^ 
with  their  cigars,  over  the  stairs  and  balustrades, 
looking  forth  from  the  top  of  the  Pincian  Hill  upon 
tlio  scene  beneath.  The  scene  is  a  magnificent 
one.  Immediately  beneath  is  the  broad  Piazza  del 
Popolo,  with  its  churches,  its  gateway,  and  its  taper- 
ing obelisk.  On  one  side  lies  the  city  ;  on  the  other 
the  Campagna.  Immediately  in  front  may  be  seen 
the  windings  of  the  historic  Tiber ;  there  the  co- 
lossal mass  of  the  mausoleum  of  Hadrian  shows  it- 
self, now  transformed  to  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo ; 
while  beyond  this  a  mightier  and  a  sublimer  object 
appears  —  the  vast  and  wondrous  dome  of  the 
greatest  of  cathedrals  —  St.  Peter's. 

All  this  appeared  to  the  boys,  though  not  on  their 
first  visit.  It  was  not  until  later  visits  that  they 
saw  all  the  life,  bustle,  and  animation  which  char- 
acterize this  place  at  certain  times  of  day,  and 
watched  that  grandest  sight  of  Rome  —  a  sunset 
from  its  summit.  Now,  however,  there  was  much 
to  interest  them,  though  on  this  first  visit  the  chief 


172  '      THE   SEVEN  HILLS. 

oT)ject  of  attraction  was  that  tapering  Egyptian 
shaft  of  red  granite  that  shot  up  ninety  feet  in  the 
air  from  the  centre  of  the  Piazza  del  Popoio. 

This  was  not  tiie  first  one  that  they  luid  seen. 
One  they  remembered  which  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  place,  in  front  of  St.  Peter's.  Others  they 
had  encountered  during  their  wanderiiigs  on  this 
very  day.  But  the  question  arose,  How  came 
these  mighty  masses  here  ?  They  were  Egyptian ; 
fashioned  first  in  a  country  far  away  over  the  sea. 
They  were  originally  single  masses  of  stone,  though 
some  of  thorn  had  been  broken.  How  came  such 
enormous  masses  to  Rome  from  Egypt  over  the 
sea  ?  How  had  they  been  moved  here,  and  set  up 
in  these  places? 

These  obelisks  were  all  brought  from  Egypt  to 
Rome  in  the  rime  of  the  emperors,  during  the  first 
Christian  century.  The  fact  that  they  were  brought 
over  tlie  sea  from  Egypt  shows  that  the  Romans 
muft  have  built  larger  ships  than  many  suppose, 
for  it  has  been  calculated  that  in  order  to  carry  one 
of  these  enormous  masses  in  safety  for  such  a  dis- 
tance, a  ship  would  have  been  required  of  not  much 
less  than  a  thousand  tons,  modern  measurement. 
That  such  ships  were  constructed  is  evident  from 
the  existence  of  so  many  of  these  gigantic  Egyp- 
tian monuments  in  Rome.  The  vast  amount  of 
engineering  skill  and  actual  toil  required  to  move 
one  of  these  for  any  distance  has  been  proved,  in 
later  days,  in  the  case  of  the*  obelisk  which  the 


THE   OBELISKS.  173 

Frcncli  brought  from  Egypt  in  the  time  of  Napoleon 
I.,  jind  set  up  in  Paris  in  the  Place  do  la  Con- 
corde. It  was  felt  that  one  nnch  task  was  enough 
for  a  great  empire.  But  the  Romans  did  this  many 
times  over;  yet  no  Roman  writer  considered  it  as 
of  sufficient  moment  to  deserve  special  notice. 

After  the  decline  of  Rome,  and  during  the  mid- 
dle ages,  these  obelisks  shared  the  fate  of  the  other 
monuments  of  the  past;  and  every  one  of  them,  in 
process  of  time,  fell  prostrate,  or  was  overthrown 
out  of  the  love  of  wanton  destruction.  All  except 
one  were  broken  —  some  in  many  pieces.  At 
length  Pope  Sixtus  determined  to  elevate  them  to 
their  former  places  and  repair  them.  This  he  suc- 
ceeded in  doing ;  and  so  well  was  it  done  that  the 
casual  observer  sees  no  marks  of  fracture  on  any 
of  them.  The  largest  is  that  one  which  stands 
near  the  Catiiedral  of  St.  John  Lateran,  and  this  is 
the  largest  in  Europe  still,  though  a  portion  of  the 
base  had  to  be  cut  off,  in  order  to  form  an  even 
surface  on  which  it  could  stand  erect.  The  oldest 
in  Rome  is  that  one  which  rises  from  the  midst  of 
the  Piijzza  del  Popolo ;  and  Egyptian  scholars, 
learned  in  hieroglyphics,  have  decided  that  its  date 
cannot  be  later  than  the  time  of  Moses.  For  all 
these  obelisks,  with  but  one  exception,  are  covered 
with  hieroglyphical  inscriptions,  and  each  one  has 
its  own  story  to  tell  to  the  diligent  inquirer  who 
may  choose  to  examine  it. 

The  only  one  that  does  Dot  bear  any  inscription 


174  THE  SEVEN   IIILLSi 

irt  that  wliich  stands  in  front  of  St.  Peter's.  This 
also  was  tlio  only  one  wliich  remained  whole. 
It  had  fallen,  like  the  others,  but  had  not  been 
broken  or  injured.  In  connection  with  this  there 
is  a  legend  which  is  universally  told  and  iiniver- 
sally  credited. 

The  legend  refers  to  its  erection  in  the  place 
where  it  now  stands.  Tlio  mighty  mass  had  been 
brought  here,  the  engines  were  erected,  and  at  the 
labor  of  thousands  of  men  and  horses,  and  in  the 
presence  of  myriads  of  spectators,  it  began  to  rise 
into  the  air.  Higher  and  higher  it  rose,  until  at 
last  it  stood  almost  upright,  needing  but  a  slight 
effort  to  complete  the  work.  Yet  at  that  very  mo- 
ment it  was  found  tliat  no  further  power  could  be 
applied.  The  cables  used  at  the  huge  windlasses 
and  capstans  below  were  all  drawn  up  to  the  last 
inch,  and  tlie  huge  guys  and  slings  attached  to  the 
obelisk  stood  stiffened  out  like  iron  rods  across  the 
air.  Nothing  more  could  be  done.  The  engineer 
had  miscalculated.  It  seemed  as  though  the  obe- 
lisk must  be  lowered  again,  and  all  tjie  work  per- 
formed afresh.  Yet  to  lower  it  was  difficult,  if  not 
impossible,  for  they  had  not  made  arrangements  for 
that.  In  the  event  of  such  an  attempt,  the  de- 
scending mass  might  go  down  with  a  run,  and  be 
shattered  to  fragnients. 

Now,  the  legend  states  that  at  this  supreme  mo- 
ment, when  the  obelisk,  and  the  minds  of  all  who 
saw  it,  were  alike  hanging  in  suspense,  a  certain 


RAISING   OF   THE   OBELISK.  175 

English  sailor,  who  happened  to  bo  in  tho  crowd, 
and  saw  tho  diificulty,  bhoutcd  out,  — 

"  Wet  the  ropes  /  " 

Tho  engineer  caught  at  once  at  tho  suggestion. 
He  knew  how  ropes  shrink  on  being  wotted,  and 
perceived  that  tho  shrinking  would  apply  all  the 
force  that  was  now  needed  to  complete  the  eleva- 
tion. Enough.  Tho  command  was  given ;  tho 
ropes  were  wetted.  They  shrank.  The  shrinking 
raised  the  obelisk,  which  ascended  grandly  into  its 
place. 

There  is  a  certain  sceptical  class  who  deny 
everything,  from  llomulus  and  Remus  down  to 
William  Tell  or  Casabianca,  and  these  men  will  not 
accept  the  English  sailor.  They  object  that  an 
English  sailor  was  not  likely  to  visit  Rome,  and 
if  he  did  so,  he  was  not  likely  to  speak  Italian.  Of 
course  these  and  a  thousand  other  objections  may 
be  made.  But  after  all,  the  story  is  a  good  one. 
It  is  perfectly  probable,  and  therefore  may  as  well 
be  accepted  as  rejected  —  like  the  story  of  King 
Alfred  in  the  herdsman's  hut,  or  Canute  and  his 
courtiers,  or  George  Washington  and  his  immortal 
hatchet.  True  or  false,  however,  the  story  has  a 
moral,  which  is  simply  this,  that  Theory  must  go 
with  Fact,  and  that  the  man  of  scientific  attain- 
ments may  often  be  at  a  loss  for  sume  idea  which  a 
plain,  practical  man  may  be  very  well  able  to  sug- 
gest. 

At  length  the  boys  left  the  Fincian  Hill  and  the 


no  •  THE  3EVEN   HILLS. 

Piazza  del  Popolo,  with  the  rosolvo  to  come  back 
ol'ten  —  a  resolve  which  they  did  not  fail  to  carry- 
out.  Once  more  they  plunged  into  the  streets  of 
Rome,  while  Ur.'^le  Moses  toiled  after  them  as  be- 
fore. They  went  on  until  at  length  they  were  ar- 
rested by  the  noise  of  f{\lling  waters,  and  on  going 
a  little  further  they  found  themselves  before  the 
hirgest  fountain  that  they  had  ever  seen. 

The  fountains  of  Rome  form  a  very  peculiar  fea- 
ture. No  other  city  in  Europe  or  in  the  world 
contains  so  many  or  so  large  ones.  This  is  chiefly 
due  to  the  supply  of  water  which  still  flows  in  gen- 
erously and  lavishly  through  those  ancient  aque- 
ducts that  yet  remain.  The  Romans  themselves 
nogded  and  secured  for  themselves  this  lavish 
water  supply,  and  these  men,  who  have  been  said 
to  have  "  built  for  eternity,"  have  a  right  to  that 
hyperbolical  saying  in  the  case  of  their  aqueducts 
at  least.  The  fountains  of  the  modern  city  are  of 
modern  construction.  The  most  famous  are  those 
glorious  jets  that  sboot  a  hundred  feet  into  the  air 
in  front  of  St.  Peter's,  on  either  side  of  the  obelisk ; 
but  the  largest  in  Rome  is  the  Trevi  Fountain, 
where  the  boys  now  found  themselves.  Here  a 
vast  body  of  water  pours  forth  like  a  small  river, 
over  artificial  rocks,  and  falls  into  a  spacious  basin 
with  a  roar  that  is  heard  for  some  distance  around. 

As  for  the  river,  —  the  river  of  rivers,  the  Tiber, 
—  matchless  though  it  may  be  in  the  charm  of  its 
historic  and  poetic  associations,  it  may  be  consid- 


TREASURES   OF   THE  TIBER.  177 

ered  as  possessing  no  practical  value  to  "Rome  at 
the  present  clay.  It  is  usually  a  shallow  and  muddy 
stream ;  yet  sometimes  it  makes  its  latent  power 
known,  and  asserts  itself  in  a  most  unpleasant,  if 
not  alarming  manner,  when  its  waters,  swollen  by 
winter  rains,  rise  and  inundate  the  city  and  Cam- 
pagna.  Yet  there  are  some  who  think  that  even 
from  the  lowest  and  most  practical  point  of  view, 
the  Tiber  may  yet  prove  to  be  of  incalculable  value 
to  Rome.  These  men  assert  that  the  bed  of  the 
classical  river  must  contain  an  untold  treasure,  ac- 
cumulated here  for  centuries,  and  only  waiting  to 
be  dug  up.  These  men  declare  that  in  the  river 
bed  are  immense  treasures  in  gold,  in  silver,  in 
precious  stones,  and  in  works  of  art.  These  men 
propose  to  dig  a  new  channel  by  which  to  divert 
the  Tiber  from  its  bed,  and  then  excavate  said  bed 
for  an  extent  of  about  ten  miles.  The  idea  is  not 
without  plausibility  ;  and  it  is  not  at  all  impossi- 
ble that  it  may  eventually  be  carried  into  execu- 
tion. Whether,  in  such  a  case,  ^he  discoveries 
would  pay  for  the  cost  of  excavation,  cannot  be 
said  ;  but  certain  it  is  that  many  objects  would  be 
discovered  of  immense  value  to  the  artist,  the  ar- 
chteologist,  the  scholar,  and  the  historian. 

This  day's  walk  revealed  to  them  many  charac- 
teristic features  of  Rome.  They  saw  the  shep- 
herds from  the  mountains,  with  their  flocks  of  sheep 
or  of  goats.  They  saw  the  curious  wine  carts,  with 
their  freight  of  fresh  wine,  and  the  queer  device 
12 


178  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

by  which  the  driver  shelters  his  head  from  the  sun. 
They  encountered  groups  of  beggars,  companies 
of  soldiers,  and  crowds  of  priests.  They  met  with 
monks  and  nuns.  They  saw  crowds  of  paupers  in 
certain  places  receiving  supplies  of  soup  at  mon- 
asteries. They  came  to  a  huge  jail,  where  the 
prisoners  glared  at  them  through  iron  gratings. 
They  stumbled  upon  a  hiil  outside  the  city,  which 
was  altogether  composed  of  fragments  of  broken 
pottery.  They  wondered  at  the  absence  of  organ- 
grinders  in  Italy  —  the  country  which  seemed  to 
them  the  headquarters  of  that  well-known  profes- 
sion. They  penetrated  into  the  Ghetto,  or  Jews 
quarter,  which  they  found  more  filthy  than  the 
worst  parts  of  New  York.  Finally  they  returned 
to  their  lodgings,  where  Uncle  Moses  informed 
them  that  he  had  never  worked  so  hard  or  felt  so 
tired  in  all  his  life,  and  that  Rome  was,  in  every 
respect,  inferior  to  Boston. 


THE  CHURCHES  OF  BOMB.  179 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Churches  of  Rotne.  — A  great  Crowd  kissing  the  Pope's 
Toe.  —  Uncle  Moses  ctirlous.  —  The  Line  of  Guards.  — 
Great  Eagerness.  —  Pertinacity  of  Uncle  Moses.  —  Em- 
barrassing and  awkward  Position  of  the  Swiss  Hal- 
berdiers. —  Tremendous  Sensation. 


(HE  churches  of  Rome  are  very  numerous. 
They  exceed  three  hundred  in  number ; 
^^  and  that  is  surely  a  large,  in  fact,  an  un- 
equalled, proportion  to  a  city  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  people.  They  are  of  every  size,  from 
the  sublime  St.  Peter's,  the  mightiest  work  of 
human  hands,  down  to  that  church  which  is  famous 
from  the  f'^.ct  that  its  dimensions,  or,  rather,  the 
area  which  it  covers,  is  precisely  the  same  which 
is  occupied  by  one  of  the  four  piers  which  support 
the  dome  of  St.  Peter's. 

These  churches  are  generally  most  magnificent, 
and  go  far  beyond  anything  known  in  America  in 
the  way  of  adornment. 

"Rich  marbles,  richer  paintings,  shrines  where  flame 
The  lamps  of  gold,"  — 


180  THE  SEVEN  ^ILLS. 

these  are  found  everywhere,  and  in  such  profusion 
that  the  very  splendor  and  the  glitter  of  so  much 
ornament  become  tiresome,  and  the  traveller  longs 
to  behold  the  gloomy,  yet  grand,  interior  of  some 
of  the  Gothic  churches  of  the  north. 

Chief  among  all  these  splendid  churches  — 
prominent  among  them  all  as  princes  and  gods  — 
are  the  great  cathedrals  of  Rome.  These  are  seven 
in  number,  and  are  known  as  basilicas,  because 
they  were  originally,  under  that  name,  the  halls  of 
justice,  or  court-houses  of  ancient  Rome.  Under 
Constantino  and  his  successors,  these  halls  of  jus- 
tice were  handed  over  to  the  Christians  to  be 
turned  into  churches,  which  purpose  they  well 
served ;  so  well-  indeed,  that  they  became  models 
in  shape  and  in  architecture  for  all  future  cathe- 
drals. Of  these  St.  Peter's  is  the  greatest.  St. 
Sebastian's  is  another,  though  only  sixth  in  rank. 
The  others  are  St.  John  Late  ran,  which  ranks 
second  famous  for  its  magnificence  ;  famous  also  for 
the  Santa  Scala,  or  sacred  steps,  which  are  said  to 
be  those  which  once  belonged  to  Pilate's  judgment 
liall,  though,  of  course,  such  a  legend  is  incredible. 
They  are,  however,  the  very  steps  up  which  Lu- 
ther once  went  on  his  knees,  and  up  which  thou- 
sands still  go  in  the  same  way  every  year.  The 
third  basilica  is  the  Cathedral  of  Santa  Maria  Mag- 
giore  (St.  Mary  the  Greater).  It  is  most  magnifi- 
cent, and  the  gilding,  spread  lavishly  over  the  veil- 
ing, was  made  from  some  of  the  first  gold  brought 


ROMAN  CHURCHES.  181 

by  the  Spaniards  from  Peru.  The  foiirt]i  in  rank 
is  the  Cathedral  of  Santa  Croco  in  Gerusaloninie 
(the  Holy  Cross  in  Jerusalem),  which  is  famous  for 
its  relics.  The  tifth  is  Santo  Paolo  fuori  Ic  Mure 
(St.  Paul's  outside  the  Walls),  wh:r;h  was  once  the 
most  magnificent  and  most  interesting  church  in 
Europe,  but  was  unfortunately  burned  down  about 
thirty  years  ago.  The  present  edifice  is,  there- 
fore, modern.  The  next  is  St.  Sebastian's,  famous 
for  the  Catacombs ;  and  the  seventh  is  the  Cathe- 
dral of  San  Lorenzo.  This  is  the  oldest  of  all,  and 
still  retains,  more  than  any,  tlie  form,  outli  ic, 
architecture,  and  general  characteristics  of  the 
ancient  Roman  basilicas.  For  this  reason  it  is 
more  studied  by  scholars  and  aichajologists  than 
any  of  the  others. 

But  besides  the  cathedrals,  there  are  the 
churches,  which  rival  them  in  magnificence  as  in 
size.  The  greater  churches  are  more  splendid 
than  the  lesser  cathedrals.  San  Carlo  in  the  Corso 
raises  its  dome  on  high,  and  exhibits  a  lavish 
adornment  which  is  unsurpassed ;  and  many  others 
there  are  which  come  near  to  it  in  this  respect ; 
but  among  all  none  can  equal  the  Chiesa  di  Gesu 
(the  Church  of  Jesus),  which  belongs  to  the  order 
of  the  Jesuits. 

Here  one  day  our  party  found  themselves. 
Uncle  Moses  and  the  four  boys  were  all  together, 
and  in  the  course  of  their  wanderings  they  had 
come  to  this  church.     There  was  some  great  cele- 


182  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

bration  going  on,  which  at  once  attracted  thorn. 
They  saw  a  crowd  outside^  among  whom  were  tlio 
life-guards  of  the  pope,  in  their  armor ;  the 
Swiss  halberdiers,  in  their  gorgeous  mediceval 
costume;  the  cardinals,  in  their  scarlet  robes; 
military  oflicers  of  high  rank  ;  and  carriages  of  the 
Roman  aristocracy,  filled  with  beautiful  Italian 
ladies. 

Something  was  evidently  going  on,  and  that, 
too,  of  no  common  ki^d ;  and  therefore  the  boys 
mingled  w^th  the  crowd,  and  worked  their  way 
through  ii,  until  at  length  they  all  found  them- 
selves upon  the  steps  of  the  church,  where  they 
stood  looking  forth  upon  the  scene,  and  patiently 
waiting  to  see  what  it  all  might  be.  Close  by 
them  there  happened  to  be  a  knot  of  English  tour- 
ists, drawn  here  by  curiosity,  and  chatting  gayly 
with  one  another.  It  was  thus  that  they  made 
known  their  nationality ;  and  no  sooner  did  Bob 
hear  their  familiar  language  than  he  asked  them 
what  the  present  gathering  was  all  about. 

"  0,"  said  one  of  them,  carelessly,  and  with  a 
laugh,  "  this,  you  know,  is  the  Church  of  the  Jesu- 
its, and  the  pope  is  goin^  to  perform  some  great 
ceremony  or  other  here  —  high  mass,  kissing  his 
toe,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know." 

This  information  was  at  once  communicated  to 
the  others,  and  of  course  stimulated  their  curiosity 
to  the  utmost. 

"  Kissin  his  to.e !  "  said  Uncle  Moses,  who  had 


THE  POPE.  183 

clung  fast  to  the  boys  in  spite  of  the  crowd,  as 
they  had  also  clung  fiist  to  him  ;  "  kissin  his  toe  ! 
Why,  railly  now  1  Is  that  railly  so  ?  Dew  tell ! 
I  want  to  know,  for  I  never  myself  railly  believed 
it;  an  even  now  I  can't  quite  get  hold  of  the  idee. 
Who  air  the  people  that  dew  it?  Why  dew  they 
dew  it  ?  Why  does  this  here  pope  let  eu  i  It's  a 
thing  I  can't  fathom.  To  me  it's  an  inscrootable 
idee.  Ef  they  want  to  kiss,  ef  they  must  kiss,  why 
don't  they  kiss  his  lips,  his  forehead,  his  cheeks, 
or  even  his  hand  ?  Why  his  toe  ?  Who  upon  airth 
ever  happened  to  hit  upon  that  thar  particular  idee, 
now  ?  " 

To  this  particular  question,  however,  no  answer 
was  offered,  and  consequently  Uncle  Moses  had 
to  solve  the  problem  by  himself.  But  now  his 
thoughts,  and  those  of  the  boys,  and  of  the  whole 
assemblage  were  drawn  in  another  direction.  A 
bustle  arose,  succeeded  by  a  deep  stillness.  Then 
the  Swiss  halberdiers  began  to  drive  the  crowd  to 
the  right  and  left,  so  as  to  make  a  way.  Through 
this  way  a  carriage  drove  up  in  regal  state.  In 
this  was  seated  an  elderly  gentleman,  richly  ar- 
rayed. He  had  a  very  mild  and  gentle  face,  and 
on  it  there  was  a  peculiarly  sweet  and  winning 
smile.  Indeed,  no  face  in  the  world  possesses 
more  attractiveness  and  a  more  gentle  charm  than 
the  face  of  Pio  None.  This  w^as  the  face  that  met 
the  gaze  of  the  astonished  boys,  and  upon  which 
the  crowd  of  spectators  now  looked,  many  with 
deep  reverence,  all  with  respect. 


184  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

^fjpon  the  boys  tho  sight  of  tliis  sweet  and  gentle 
face,  with  its  winning  snule  and  venerable  mien, 
produced  a  very  great  and  st. "iking  effect.  Tiiia 
was  not  at  all  their  idea  of  the  Pope  of  Rome. 
They  had  formed  no  very  definite  conception  on 
the  subject,  but  had  thought,  in  a  general  way,  of  a 
big,  burly,  bloated,  hard-faced,  red-nosed,  Babylo- 
nian monster,  with  a  purple  robe  and  a  triple 
crown,  with  cruel  face,  vindictive  eyes,  frowning 
brow,  and  malignant  expression. 

Instead  of  that,  however,  they  saw  this  venerable 
figure,  this  face  of  gentleness,  this  winning  smile, 
and  friendly  glance.  The  result  was,  of  course,  an 
immense  revulsion  of  feeling. 

"  I  like  him,"  said  Clive,  emphatically.  "  I  never 
saw  a  nobler  face.  I  had  no  idea  that  he  looked 
anything  like  this." 

"  Nor  had  I,"  said  David.  "  He's  got  a  gentler 
face  and  a  sweeter  smile  than  any  one  I  ever  saw ; 
no,  not  even  excepting  Dr.  Harrison,"  he  added, 
after  a  pause  ;  and  this  was  a  very  strong  state- 
ment for  David  to  make,  who  looked  upon  Dr. 
Harrison,  his  old  preceptor,  as  the  beau  ideal  of  a 
Christian,  a  <^'entleman,  and  a  scholar. 

"  What  makes  people  abuse  him  so  ? "  asked 
Frank.  "  I  don't  see  how  they  can  have  the  heart 
to.  I  should  think  one  sight  of  that  face  would 
destroy  all  prejudice." 

"  0,  it  isn't  he  that  they  abuse,"  said  David,  with 
a  profound  gravity  that  he  often  assumed  ;  "  it's  the 
system,  you  know."  >     . 


EXCITEMENT   OP  UNCLE   MOSES.  185 


Bob  said  nothing,  but  kept  Immming  to  himsotf 
the  following  very  appropriate  words,  froin  a  weir 
known  song :  — 

"  The  popo  ho  leads  a  happy  life  : 
No  care  has  ho  or  worldly  dtrife; 
He  drinks  the  best  of  Khenish  wine. 
I  would  that  his  gay  lot  were  mine." 

"  You'd  better  look  out,"  said  Clive.  "  Tliey'U 
hear  you,  if  you  don't  sing  a  little  lower,  and  you'll 
be  arrested." 

"  Well,"  said  Bob,  "  let  'em  rip.  Don't  you  know 
I  want  to  see  the  inside  of  a  Roman  prison?  " 

Meanwhile  Uncle  Moses  had  surveyed  the  pope 
with  the  deepest  attention,  and  had  experienced 
the  same  revulsion  of  fooling  which  had  been  un- 
dergone by  the  boys  ;  for  his  idea  of  the  Pope  of 
Rome  had  been  quite  as  extravagant  as  theirs,  and 
the  reality  produced  upon  him  a  very  profound 
impression.  He  held  up  both  of  his  hands  in  won- 
der, and  for  some  time  said  nothing.  At  last  his 
feelings  burst  forth. 

"  Wal,  I  never  !  "  said  Uncle  Moses.  "  Dear, 
dear,  dear  !  Is  that  railly  the  pope  ?  Why,  what 
a  nice,  kind,  sweet-lookin  old  gentleman  he  is,  to  bo 
sure  !  Why,  I'd  like  to  make  his  acquaintance.  I 
would,  railly.  I  think  I'll  jest  go  a  leeile  nearer,  so 
as  to  get  a  better  look.  And  his  toe,  too  !  Railly 
now  !  Surely  Jie  won't  let  em  kiss  his  toe.  Dear, 
dear,  dear !  Why,  what  an  on-common  nice- 
lookin  old  gentleman,  to  be  sure  !     Yes,  yes.     I 


186  'the  seven  HILL8. 

failly  must  try  to  git  jest  a  leeile  mito  nearer  to 

Saying  tliis,  Uncle  Moses  took  a  careful  observa- 
tion of  the  scene,  and  then  backed  down  slowly 
and  curefull}''  from  the  place  where  he  had  been 
standing,  after  which  he  began  to  work,  or,  rather, 
worm  his  way  through  the  crowd,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  getting  nearer.  The  Swiss  halberdiers,  on 
dividing  the  crowd  so  as  to  makr  way  for  the 
pope's  carriage,  had  arranged  themselves  on  either 
side,  so  as  to  keep  order,  and  secure  the  passage- 
way from  interruption,  and  prevent  the  people 
from  pressing  in  upon  it.  Thus  they  stood  ;  and 
on  working  his  way  through  the  crowd,  Uncle 
Moses  at  length  found  a  line  of  these  faithful 
guards  immediately  in  front  of  him,  and  intercept- 
ing all  farther  progress. 

Meanwhile  the  coach  of  state  was  advancing 
along  the  passage-way  that  had  been  formed 
through  the  crowd,  and  between  the  Swiss  hal- 
berdiers, who  stood  in  lines  on  either  side.  The 
venerable  occupant  looked  pleasantly  out  upon  the 
crowd,  and  smiled,  and  bowed,  and  reacned  out  his 
hand,  as  if  to  bless  them.  Applause  arose,  and 
cheers.  At  length  .^he  carriage  stopped,  the  door 
was  thrown  open,  the  steps  let  down,  and  several 
attendants  presented  themselves  to  receive  the 
pope,  and  assist  him  down. 

It  happened  that  the  pope  had  stopped  close  by 
Uncle  Moses,  who  could  not  have  taken  his  stand 


UNCLE  MOSES  SEIZED.  187 

ill  a  better  ])lace.  But  in  his  eagornosa  to  see 
more,  ho  pushed  his  head  forward  between  two 
Swiss  halberdiers  in  front  of  him,  and  not  content 
with  this,  aouaally  lorgot  iiiniself  so  far  as  to  try  to 
work  his  way  between  tlietn  by  the  same  proeesa 
which  had  been  so  successful  in  bringing  hiiu  thus 
far  through  the  crowd. 

At  fii'i^t  the  Swiss  stood  motionless,  and  Uncle 
Moses  had  actually  succeeded  in  working  himself 
about  half  way  through.  He  was  immediately  op- 
posite, or,  rather,  in  front  of  the  pope,  and  waa 
staring  at  him  with  all  his  might.  His  attitude 
and  face  were  so  singular  that  the  pope  could  not 
possibly  help  being  struck  by  it.  He  was  struck 
by  it,  and  so  much  so  that  he  uttered  an  involun- 
tary exclamation,  and  stopped  short  in  his  descent. 

The  very  moment  that  his  holiness  stoiU'od,  Uncle 
Moses  stopped  short,  too,  and  quite  involuntarily ; 
for  the  Swiss  halberdiers,  irritated  by  his  perti- 
nacity, and  seeing  the  pope's  gesture,  turned  sud- 
denly, and  each  one  grasped  Uncle  Moses  by  the 
collar. 

Poor  Uncle  Moses  ! 

The  boys  saw  every  incident  in  this  scone. 
Thi^y  saw  it  from  a  distance.  They  could  do  abso- 
lutely nothing,  and  could  only  stand  aghast  and 
stare. 

The  Swiss  halberdiers  stood  for  a  little  while 
rigid  and  motionless,  like  two  cast-iron  men,  hold- 
ing poor  Uncle  Moses  like  two  vices.     It  must  be 


188  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

owned  that  it  was  an  extremely  undignified  atti- 
tude for  men  like  the  Swiss  halberdiers,  whose 
position  is  simply  an  ornamental  one,  and  whose 
contract  is  to  the  effect  that  they  shall  never  put 
themselves  in  anything  else  but  graceful  attitudes. 
Nothing  but  the  most  unparalleled  or  unpardonable 
outrage  to  their  dignity  could  have  moved  them  to 
this.  So  'unusual  a  display  of  energy,  however, 
did  not  last  long,  for  in  a  few  moments  several  per- 
sons in  citizens'  clothes  darted  through  the  crowd 
to  the  spot,  and  secured  the  prisoner.  Upon  this 
the  Swiss,  finding  their  occupation  gone,  resumed 
their  upright,  rigid,  ornamental  attitude.  The  pope 
found  no  longer  any  obsUicle  in  his  way,  and  re- 
sumed his  descent ;  and,  as  flir  as  he  was  con- 
cerned, he  remained  free  from  all  further  interrup- 
tion for  the  remainder  of  the  ceremoniaL 

But  Uncle  Moses  had  been  the  unconscious  cause 
of  a  tremendous  sensation.  For  a  moment  he  had 
created  a  wide-spread  consternation  in  tlie  breasts 
of  aU  the  different  and  very  numerous  classes  of 
men  who  composed  that  crowd.  Utterly  uncon- 
scious of  what  he  was  doing,  he  had,  nevertheless, 
done  that  which,  in  thousands  present,  had  made 
their  nerves  thrill,  and  their  hearts  throb  fast  with 
a  sudden  tumult  of  awful  fear  and  apprehension. 

1.  The  pope  himself,  who  stopped  and  stared  at 
him,  and  thought,  "  It's  some  Garibaldian." 

2.  The  nearest  cardinal,  who  thought,  "  It's  an 
assassin." 


SENSATION  AMONG   DIFFERENT   CLASSES.         189 


I      3.   The  footman,  who  thought,  "  This  is  another 
I  proof  of   the   uselessness    of  the    pampered    hal- 
berdiers." 

4.  The  chamberlains,  who  did  not  see  Unclo 
Moses,  thei"  backs  being  turned  to  him,  and  who 
thought,  "  Something  has  disagreed  with  his  holi- 
ness.    He  has  vertigo." 

5.  Tlie  general  of  the  Jesuits,  who  muttered, 
"  Aha  !  h'm  !     It's  a  Carbonaro." 

6.  The  archbishops,  who  turned  pale. 

7.  The  bishops,  who  clasped  their  hands. 

8.  The  abbots,  who  crossed  themselves. 

9.  The  Propaganda  students,  who  made  an  effort 
to  get  nearer. 

10.  French  soldiers,  who —  But  it  is  un- 
necessary to  describe  the  feehngs  of  all  present  on 
this  occasion,  for  in  that  case  we  should  have  to 
consider  in  detail  the  feelings  of 

11.  Italian  radicals. 

12.  Papal  dragoons. 

13.  Papal  soldiers. 

14.  English  tourists. 

15.  Russian      do. 


16. 

German 

do. 

17. 

American 

.do. 

18. 

French 

do. 

19. 

Dutch   ^ 

do. 

20. 

Spanish 

do. 

21. 

Belgian 

do. 

22. 

Swedish 

do. 

190  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

23.  Artists. 

24.  Priests. 

25.  Monks. 

26.  Friars. 

•    27.  Frank! 

28.  David! 

29.  Clive! 

30.  Bob! 

And  now,  of  all  the  horror  that  was  experienced 
by  all  the  above,  certainly  none  was  more  genuine 
or  more  intense  than  that  which  was  felt  by  the 
last  four,  whose  names  close  the  above  list.  For 
what  did  they  see  ?  They  saw  Uncle  Moses  seized 
by  the  Papal  Guard.  Then  they  saw  him  seized 
by  some  men  in  citizens'  clothes.  Then  they  saw 
six  gendarmes  advance  and  take  possession  of  him. 
He  was  arrested,  and  by  the  gendarmes  I  What 
would  be  the  result  ?  What  had  he  done  ?  What 
would  the  pope  do  ?  What  could  they  do  ?  What 
would  become  of  Uncle  Moses  ?  Alas  !  it  was  too 
true,  what  Bob  had  said  in  jest,  that  he  could  not 
take  care  of  himself. 


EFFECT  CF  THE  CAPTURE   OP  UNCLF  MOSES.    191 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Arrest  of  UticU  Moses.  —  The  Gendarmes  again.  —  The 
Boys  surround  their  hapless  Friend.  —  Affecting  Scene.  — 
Mournful  Interview  and  pathetic  Farewell.  —  Uncle 
Moses  is  dragged  off  to  the  Dungeons  of  the  Inquisition. 
—  The  Boys  fly  for  Assistance.  —  No  Hope. 


A 


gfiyf^HE  arrest  of  Uncle  Moses  filled  the  boys  at 
Jy^  first  with  despair ;  but  soon  they  rallied  from 
*J^  this,  and  a  confused  medley  of  desperate 
plans  arose.  Their  first  impulse  was  to  make  a 
rush  at  the  man  in  plain  clothes  and  rescue  him. 
With  this  intention  they  forced  their  way  through 
the  crowd  for  a  short  distance.  But  it  was  only  to 
see  an  additional  grief  descend,  in  the  capture  of 
poor  Uncle  Moses  by  the  abhorrent  gendarmes. 
They  tried  to  get  nearer,  however,  in  spite  of  this ; 
and  though  they  could  not  make  their  way  very 
easily  through  such  a  crowd,  still  they  managed  to 
keep  on  following  after  Uncle  Moses.  Thus,  with 
the  mere  instinct  of  affection,  they  followed  him,  not 
knowing  what  they  could  do,and  with  their  thoughts 
and  purposes  all  confused. 

Working  their  way  on  thus,  they  succeeded  in 
following  the  cocked  hats  of  the  gendarmes  which 


192  THE   SEVEN   HILLa 

appeared  above  the  heads  of  the  crowd;  though  of 
Uncle  Moses  thoy  could  only  catch  an  occasional 
glimpse  ;  but  at  length  the  throng  of  people  became 
less  dense,  and  they  gained  ground  upon  the  object 
of  their  pursuit.  Finally  they  came  to  the  out- 
skirts of  the  crowd,  where  the  gendarmes  stood  and 
surrounded  their  prisoner,  while  one  of  them  went 
away  on  some  business. 

The  boys  now  drew  near.  Uncle  Moses  looked 
at  them  with  a  pale  face,  and  heaved  a  heavy  sigh 
as  he  saw  them. 

"  Wal,  boys,"  said  he,  "  you  see  how  it  is.  I 
can't  get  free.  These  rascals  hev  nabbed  me. 
What  on  airth  they're  a  goin  to  do  with  me  I  can't 
tell.  But  don't  be  oneasy.  It'll  be  all  right  in 
time.  'Tain't  myself  I'm  troubled  about,  but  you  ; 
for  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of  leavin  you  onpro- 
tected.  But  as  for  me,  they  won't  dare  to  harm  so 
mucii  as  the  hair  of  the  head  of  a  free  American." 

"  0,  Uncle  Moses,"  cried  David,  in  deep  distress, 
"  what  can  we  do  ?  " 

"  Darned  ef  I  know,"  said  Uncle  Moses.  "  It's 
these  here  Roman  poYice.  They  darsn't  huTi,  me  — 
course  —  bein  as  I'm  a  free  American  citizen ;  but 
they  can  keep  me  tied  ap  for  a  few  days,  an  I  dar 
say  they  will.  But  ef  tbey  do  —  ef  they  dar  to  do 
so  —  as  sure  as  my  name's  Moses,  I'll  prosecute 
em  all  for  damages.  1  will,  by  thunder.  An  so 
they'd  better  look  out." 

With  these  words  Uncle  Moses  cast  a  look  of 


AFFECTING   SCENE.  193 

gloomy  menace  at  the  gendarmes  around  him,  but 
the  look  was  an  unnatural  one  for  him ;  after  a 
time  it  passed  away,  and  his  face  resumed  its 
usual  serenity. 

"  As  I  was  a  sayin,"  lie  continued,  "  I  don't  care 
for  myself,  not  a  mite.  The  ony  thing  I  do  care 
for,  is  for  you  boys.  Ef  I'm  kep  away  two  or 
three  days,  what  on  airth  is  goin  to  become  of 
you  ?  I'll  be  dreadful  anxious  an  oneasy  about 
you.     Now  promise  me  one  thing." 

"  What  ?  "  asked  David,  in  a  doleful  voice. 

"  Why,  promise  me  you  won't  go  and  get  into 
any  scrapes." 
•  "  Scrapes  !  "  said  Frank.  "  Why,  Uncle  Moses, 
we  don't  intend  to  leave  you.  Well  follow  you, 
and  stick  by  you  through  thick  and  thin,  till  you 
get  free."  '   . 

"  Wal,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  I  rayther  guess 
you'll  find  you've  got  to  leave  me." 

"  No  *,  we  I  give  ourselves  up,"  said  Frank, 
firmly,  "  and  go  to  prison  along  with  you." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  David.  "  That's  what  we'll  do. 
We'll  all  go.     We  won't  leave  you.  Uncle  Moses." 

Uncle  Moses  gave  a  short,  dry  laugh. 

*'  A  likely  story,"  said  he,  "  a  very  likely  story. 
But  'tain't  so  easy  done,  dear  boys." 

"  0,  yes,"  said  Frank,  "  we'll  give  ourselves  up, 
you  know." 

"  Wal,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  as  to  that,  there  air 
two  objections.     In  the  fust  place  they  wouldn't 

13 


104  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

take  yon.  In  the  second  place,  ef  they  did  take 
yoU;  they  wouldn't  put  you  in  the  same  place  with 
me.  They'd  separate  us  all,  put  each  of  us  in  a 
separate  dungeon,  so's  to  examine  us  each  by  our- 
selves. That's  the  way  they'd  do  it.  No;  you 
keep  clear  of  this  here  business,  or  else  you'll  only 
complicate  matters,  and  make  it  all  the  harder 
for  me." 

"  But,  Uncle  Moses,  we  can't  bear  to  leave  you 
in  such  a  situation  as  this,"  said  Clive,  "  for  ever 
so  short  a  time."  The  other  boys  said  nothing, 
but  stood  looking  at  him  with  their  young  faces 
exhibiting  the  deepest  affliction. 

Uncle  Moses  gtive  a  short  cough,and  then  cleared 
his  throat  elaborately. 

"  As  to  leavin  me,"  said  he,  "  you've  got  to  do 
that.  You  talk  of  givin  yourselves  up,  an  gittin 
yourselves  arrested ;  but  there  ain't  no  way  you 
can  manage  it,  an  ef  you  was  to  be  arrested,  as  I 
said  before,  you'd  all  be  separated,  and  so  you 
can't  come  with  me  whatever  way  you  fix  it.  So 
you  cheer  up,  an  go  quietly  home,  an  wait  for  me, 
an  keep  yourselves  out  of  scrapes.  Don't  fret 
about  me,  for  I'll  be  along  shortly.  They'll  have 
to  let  me  go  soon.  They  darsn't  detain  me  long. 
They've  got  nothin  agin  me,  not  a  hooter." 

"  Can't  we  do  something  for  you  ?  "  asked  David. 
"  Can't  you  think  of  anything  that  we  can  do  to 
help  you  ?  " 

"  Wal,  yea  j  I  could  think  of  somethm  you  could 


ADVICE  TO   THE   BOYS.  11)5 

« 

do  for  me  ef  you  could  only  speak  I-talian.  But 
the  misfortin  of  it  is,  you  can't  do  it;  an  so  you 
can't  explain  to  them  how  things  is.  But  now  I 
tliink  of  it,  there's  something  you  can  do,  after  all. 
There's  our  minister.  You  go  and  try  to  find 
him.  He's  here.  You  tell  him  all  about  it.  He'll 
git  me  out.  They  darsn't  refuse  the  demand  of 
the  American  ambassador.  Jest  send  him  to  see 
me.  I'll  tell  him  all  about  it,  an  he'll  talk  to  em 
about  right.  He'll  give  em  fits.  He'll  fix  me  up 
in  five  minutes.  Yes,  yes,  boys,  that's  our  plan  ; 
hurry  off  for  our  minister,  and  send  him  along  as 
quick  as  you  can." 

This  suggestion  about  the  American  minister 
inspired  all  the  boys  Avith  hope.  They  all  had 
boundless  confidence  in  the  power,  might,  majesty, 
and  influence  of  the  ambassador  of  the  Great 
Republic.  In  him  they  at  once  felt  that  they 
would  find  a  friend  and  a  champion,  who  would 
interpose  immediately  and  with  effect  to  rescue 
Uncle  Moses  from  the  grasp  of  Roman  jailers. 

But  now  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by 
the  approach  of  a  cab.  It  was  a  largo,  clumsy 
vehicle,  of  a  rusty  black  color,  and  drawn  by 
two  dingy  horses.  Beside  the  driver  was  seated 
a  gendarme,  in  wMiom  the  boys  recognized  that 
one  who  had  gone  away.  Tiiey  understood  now 
the  purpose  for  which  he  had  gone.  It  was  to 
secure  this  cab.  They  were  about  to  take  Uncle 
Moses  away  in  this  —  and  where  ?  It  was  a 
miserable,  a  dismal  question. 


19G  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

The  cab  hauled  up ;  the  gendarme  leaped  down 
as  nimbly  as  the  stiffness  of  a  gendarme  would 
allow,  and  then  conversed  lor  a  few  moments  with 
the  other  gendarmes,  who  surrounded  the  prisoner. 
Again  the  boys  felt  a  sharp  regret  at  their  igno- 
rance of  Italian.  ITow  often  had  this  ignorance 
stood  in  their  way !  At  length  they  seemed  to 
have  settled  the  subject  of  their  conversation,  for 
one  of  them  opened  the  door  of  the  cab,  and 
another,  leading  Uncle  Moses  by  the  arm,  pointed 
significantly  towards  it. 

Uncle  Moses  regarded  the  vehicle  with  a  face 
of  disgust.  lie  walked  a  few  paces  till  he  reached 
it.  The  boys  followed.  Then  he  turned  and 
looked  at  them  mournfully. 

''  I  didn't  think  boys,"  said  he,  —  "  I  didn't  think 
that  I'd  live  to  see  the  day  when  I'd  be  dragged 
off  to  the  lock-up  in  a  close  wagon.  But  it  ain't 
no  fault  of  mine.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  It  s 
despotism.  And,  boys,  let  this  be  a  warniu  to  you 
all  the  rest  of  your  lives  —  let  it  be  a  lesson  — to 
teach  you  to  uphold  to  your  dyin  days  the  immortal 
principles  of  '76  ;  to  fight  agin  monarchy,  aristoc- 
racy, slavery,  hierarchy,  agin  thrones,  principalities, 
an  powers,  an  speritool  wickedness  in  high  places. 
You  behold  your  uncle  led  off  by  the  minions 
of  the  tyrant !  Ef  you  ever  go  an  forgit  this 
scene,  I'll  disown  you.  And  mind  what  I  told  you 
about  the  American  minister.  Hunt  him  up  at 
once.     Don't  wait.     Tell  him  all  about  me.     Tell 


PATHETIC  FAREWELL.  197 

liira  tliat  a  free  American  citizen  is  a  lyin  a  pinin 
in  a  prison  in  captivity  in  the  dungeon  of  tho 
despot.     And  hurry  up." 

Here  the  gendarme  drew  Uncle  Moses  with 
some  force  towards  the  cab,  speaking  at  the  same 
time  witli  evident  impatience. 

"Well,  well,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "there  ain't  no 
eich  dreadful  hurry  about  it,  any  way ;  an  you'll 
git  me  where  you  want  me.  There  ain't  no  dan- 
ger of  my  gittin  loose  and  runnin  areound.  An 
now,  boys,  I'm  off,"  he  said,  putting  one  foot  on  the 
steps  of  the  cab,  and  turning  to  speak  a  "jw  part- 
ing words :  "  Good  by,  dear  boys.  Don't  fret. 
I'm  all  right.  I'm  supported  by  a  peaceful  con- 
science. My  only  anxiety'll  be  about  you.  So 
you  take  care  of  yourselves  for  my  sake,  an  don't 
give  me  any  additional  trouble.  Hurry  away  and 
hunt  up  the  American  minister  as  fast  as  you  can, 
and  send  him  to  me.     Good  by,  dear  boys  ;  I  — >  " 

Here  Uncle  Moses  stopped  abruptly,  and  turned 
away  his  head.  A  sob  burst  from  him.  He  sprang 
into  the  cab.  The  boys  stood  with  hearts  that 
seemed  almost  ready  to  break.  It  would  have 
been  bad  enough  had  Uncle  Moses  left  them  with 
a  smile  of  confidence  ;  but  that  sob,  wrung  from  him 
in  spite  of  his  assumed  cheerfulness,  showed  them 
beyond  a  doubt  what  h!s  actual  feelings  were,  and 
at  once  brought  back  the  very  worst  Tears  which 
had  formerly  come  to  them. 

Thinking  only  of  him,  and  of  his  danger,  and  the 


198  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

mystorions  fato  before  liim,  the  boys,  obeyinp;  a 
blinil  iinpiilse,  (liislietl  forward,  and  made  as  tliougli 
tlioy  would  follow  Uncle  Moaes  into  the  cab.  But 
the  oast-iron  gendarmes  coldly  motioned  them  back, 
uttering  at  the  same  time  what  seemed  like  threats. 
Of  course  the  boys  at  once  desisted  from  any 
further  attempt  to  act  out  their  wild  impulse. 
They  therefore  fell  back,  and  stood  looking  with 
mournful  faces,  and  hearts  that  throbbed  feverishly 
and  painfully. 

Two  of  the  gendarmes  now  got  into  the  cab 
along  with  Uncle  Moses.  A  third  shut  the  door, 
and  then  mounted  the  seat  beside  tl.3  dr'ver,  and 
the  others  walked  solemnly  away. 

The  cab  now  started  olf,  and  drove  rapidly 
away. 

"  Boys,"  cried  Bob,  "  let's  run  after  the  cab,  and 
see  where  they  take  him."  . 

The  suggestion  was  at  once  acted  upon.  Away 
went  the  four  boys,  running  at  the  top  of  their 
speed,  and  trying  to  keep  within  sight  of  the  cab. 
For  some  distance  they  had  no  difficulty  in  doing 
this,  as  the  cab  went  on  in  one  direction,  and  the 
pace  at  which  they  went  was  quite  fast  enough  to 
prevent  it  from  going  out  of  sight.  At  length, 
however,  they  entered  a  part  of  the  city  where 
the  streets  were  narrow,  and  winding,  and  irregu- 
lar. Here  the  cab  went  out  of  sight  once  or  twice 
in  the  windings  of  the  street ;  but  by  making  an 
extraordinary  effort,  they  managed  to  get  nearer 


FRUITLESS  SEARCH.  199 

again,  and  catch  siglit  -^  f  it.  At  last  tho  cab  turned 
a  corner,  and  wlion  they  wont  up  they  saw  nothing 
of  it.  Running  down  tho  street. for  the  length  of 
a  block,  they  came  to  a  cross  street,  where  they 
stood  looking  anxiously  up  and  down.  In  this 
cross  street  they  felt  sure  that  the  cab  must  have 
turned,  and  whether  it  took  tho  right  hand  corner 
or  the  left,  thoy  could  not  conjecture.  But  they 
had  to  decide  on  one  or  tho  other,  and  that,  too, 
witliout  delay,  for  there  was  not  a  isinglc  moment 
to  lose  ;  80,  at  Frank's  suggestion,  they  turned  to 
the  right,  and  continued  their  pursuit,  or  rather 
search,  —  for  that  was  what  it  had  now  become, — 
at  tho  very  top  of  their  speed.  But  the  next  corner 
raised  new  doubts  and  difficulties,  which  were 
increased  at  the  succeeding  one,  and  filled  them 
with  perplexity.  Still,  baffled  though  thoy  were, 
they  kept  up  tho  search  for  a  long  time,  even  after 
all  hope  had  left  them  ;  but  at  length  thoy  were 
compelled  to  give  it  up. 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  Frank,  "  there's  no  use  for  us 
to  waste  our  time  any  longer.  We  can't  find  the 
cab.  liy  this  time  it  has  reached  the  place  it  was 
going  to,  whatever  that  was.  We're  only  wasting 
our  time  now  that  might  be  far  better  employed. 
So  I  say,  let's  go  off  at  once  after  the  American 
minister." 

"  So,  I  say,"  said  David  ;  "  but  where  can  we  tell 
him  to  go  ?  We  can't  tell  him  where  Uncle  Moses 
has  been  taken." 


200  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

"  Bu*  we  don't  know  that,  and  can't  find  it  out," 
said  Frank,  "  and  wo'ro  only  losing  time.  So  conio, 
boyH ;  lot'8  hurry  ofi"." 

'*  We  dftn't  need  to  know,"  said  Bob,  "  where 
Uncle  Moses  lias  been  taken.  The  American 
ambassador  won't  care  to  know,  either.  It'll  bo 
enough  lor  him  to  know  that  a  fellow-countryman 
is  imprisoned,  and  he  can  go  and  demand  hia 
release.'^ 

"  It's  all  very  well,"  said  Clive,  to  say,  '  Let's 
go  to  the  American  minister ; '  but  where  does  he 
live  ?     Do  you  know,  Frank  ?  " 

"  No  ;  but  that's  no  matter.  We  cpn  easily  find 
out  at  the  lodging-house." 

"  Or  the  Hotel  dell'  Inghilteri'a,"  said  David. 
*'  There  are  always  lots  of  English  thci  e,  and  Ameri- 
cans, too,  for  that  matter.  They'll  know.  Besides, 
the  waiters  speak  English,  and  we  can  find  out 
from  them  everything  we  want  to  knowj  so 
hurry  up." 

"  Hurry  up  1 "  said  Bob,  looking  around  with  a 
puzzled  face.  "  It's  all  very  well  to  say,  *  flurry 
lip,'  but  for  my  part,  I'd  like  to  know  where  wo 
are  to  hurry.  We  don't  know  where  the  American 
minister's  is,  and  what's  more,  we  don't  know 
where  our  own  lodging-house  is." 

"  Well,"  said  Frank,  quickly,  "  that's  all  the  more 
reason  why  we  should  hurry  up,  so  as  to  find  it." 

With  these  words  he  started  ofT,  and  the  others 
followed.     Having  now  some  definite  purpose,  the 


THE  B0Y8  MORE  CHEERFUL.        201 

boya  throw  awido  all  foolinpjR  of  gloom  and  dcapon- 
dency,  and  thought  only  of  tho  task  before  tlicra. 
Hope  revived  along  w^ith  action.  Thoy  all  felt 
that  thoy  were  doing  Homething.  Tho  thought  of 
the  American  minister  roused  their  confidence  to 
tho  highest  point.  Armed  as  he  was  with  all  tho 
authority  of  tho  Great  Republic,  that  fonnidablo 
functionary  could  scarcely  bo  refused  in  any  just 
demand.  He  was  their  fellow-countryman,  and 
they  could  tell  him  all  their  story,  and  pour  all 
their  sorrows  into  his  ear.  lie  would  help  them. 
His  sympathy  would  be  all  enlisted  on  their  side, 
and  he  would  fly  at  once  to  the  assistance  of  tho 
innocent  prisoner.  Now  they  understood  fully  tho 
advantage  of  having  a  representative  of  their  own 
nation  in  foreign  lands.  Before  this  they  used 
often  to  wonder  why  it  was  that  American  citizens 
were  sent  on  embassies  to  the  courts  of  foreign 
despots ;  but  at  this  moment  they  appreciated  the 
fact  to  its  fullest  extent. 

For  some  time  they  wandered  up  and  down 
through  a  tangled  network  of  crooked  streets,  and 
could  not  find  their  way.  Tho  place  was  utttilj' 
unknown.  At  last,  however,  they  emerged  into  a 
place  where  they  recognized  certain  familiar  land- 
marks in  the  shape  of  tho  Pantheon,  and  the 
Column  of  Antonine.  From  this  they  went  to  tho 
Corso,  and  thence  to  their  own  lodgings.  They 
then  hurried  off  to  the  Hotel  dell'  Inghilterra. 

Here,  as  I'rank  had  said,  the  waiters  spoke  Eng- 


202  THE  3EVEN   HILLS. 

lish,  and  from  them  they  found  out  at  once,  without 
any  trouble,  the  residence  of  the  American  minister. 
It  was  in  a  part  of  the  city,  however,  with  wliich 
they  were  not  at  all  acquainted ;  so  they  had  to  go 
home  to  their  lodgings,  and  find  it  out  on  the  maj) 
wliich  they  had  left  behind  them  on  this  day. 
Then,  map  in  hand,  they  went  in  search  of  the 
house  of  their  country's  representative.  After  a 
long  search  they  at  last   succeeded  in  finding  it. 

But  on  making  inquiries,  they  learned,  to  their 
dismay,  that  the  American  minister  was  not  at 
home. 

For  this  they  had  not  been  at  all  prepared,  and 
it  was  with  much  anxiety  that  they  asked,  — 

"  And  where  is  he,  then  ?  " 

"  lie  has  gone  with  a  party  to  Tivoli." 

"When  will  he  be  back?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  He  left  no  word.  I 
don't  think  he  will  be  back  till  to-morrow  evening." 

At  this  the  boys'  hearts  sank  within  them.  They 
could  not  wait  for  the  return  of  the  American 
minister.  Uncle  Moses  must  be  rescued  before 
then. 

But  how? 

What  could  they  do,  mere  boys  as  they  were, 
young,  inexperienced,  and  ignorant  of  the  lan- 
guage ? 

So  they  hurried  away  in  deep  gloom  and  disap- 
pointment, not  having  the  remotest  idea  of  what 
they  ought  to  do  next. 


RETURN  OP  THE  BOYS.  203 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

New  Plans  to  rescue  the  Captive.  —  The  friendly  Waiter. 

—  The  gru?nbling  Englishman.—  The  Afati  of  Honor,  and 
the  first  Lawyer  in  Europe.  —  An  interesting  Interview. 

—  A  slight  Taste  of  Roman  Law.  —  Terror  of  the  Clients. 

—  No  Hope  for  the  Prisoner. 

FTER  leaving  the  residence  of  the  Ameri- 
can minister,  the  boys  retraced  their  steps 
back  to  their  lodgings.  The  high  hopes 
which  tliey  had  set  upon  the  American  minister, 
and  the  confidence  with  which  they  had  come  in 
search  of  him,  made  their  present  disappointment 
all  the  more  bitter ;  and  it  was  now  with  the  deep- 
est despondency  that  they  walked  along.  They 
walked  without  saying  anything,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  no  one  had  anything  to  say. 

At  length  the  silence  was  broken  by  Prank. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  boys/'  said  he :  "  we  can 
do  something  yet,  after  all." 

"  What?"  cried  all,  in  the  utmost  eagerness. 

"  Why,"  said  Frank,  "  we  can  do  just  as  peo- 
ple do  at  home,  in  a  case  of  this  kind  —  get  a 
lawyer." 

"  A  lawyer  I " 


204  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

"  Yes,  of  course  —  a  lawyer.  That's  the  very 
man  we  want." 

"  But  where  can  we  get  one  ?  "  asked  David. 

"  0,  anywhere,"  said  Frank,  confidently.  '''  There 
are  plenty  of  tliem  here  i"  Rome.  There  must  be 
plenty  of  them,  of  course ;  and,  for  that  matter, 
there  never  has  been,  and  there  never  will  be,  any 
place  in  the  civilized  world  without  plenty  of  law- 
yers. It  must  be  easy  enough  to  find  them.  So, 
boys,  my  idea  is,  that  we  had  better  set  off  at  once, 
and  hunt  up  a  lawyer.  We  can  hear  about  some 
good  one  at  the  Hotel  delP  Inghelterra.  We  want 
a  leading  lawyer,  though  ;  a  real  tip-top,  first-class 
man  —  none  of  your  pettifogging  attorneys.  Now 
that's  the  sort  of  a  man  we  want,  and  I  propose 
that  we  give  him  the  case  of  Uncle  Moses,  and  urge 
him  to  go  ahead  with  it  at  once,  and  first  of  all  get 
him  out  of  jail." 

David  gave  a  sigh. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  he ;  "  but  somehow  I 
don't  like  the  idea  of  getting  a  lawyer.  I'm  afraid 
if  poor  Uncle  Moses  gets  into  the  clutches  of  the 
lawyers,  it'll  be  worse  for  him.  Better  fight  it  out 
with  the  gendarmes.  A  lawyer  will  contrive  to 
keep  him  in  prison  all  his  life,  and  make  a  living 
out  of  this  one  case.  I  wish  we  could  do  some- 
thing else.  I'm  afraid  of  lawyers,  even  at  home 
among  ourselves ;  but  what  would  become  of  us  all 
if  poor  Uncle  Moses  got  into  the  hands  of  the  Ro- 
man lawyers  ?  For  my  part,  I  prefer  relying  on  the 
American  minister.'^ 


THE  BOYS  TN  COUNCIL.  205 

"  But  we  can't  rely  on  him,"  said  Frank.  "  He's 
out  of  town,  and  mayn't  be  back  for  no  one  knows 
how  long.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  prefer 
standing  still,  and  waiting  till  he  gets  back?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  David ;  "  I  don't  mean  that, 
of  course  ;  but  I  had  a  vague  idea  of  trying  to  find 
him.     But  of  course  that  would  take  time." 

*'  Of  course  it  would.  What  we  want  is  to  get 
Uncle  Moses  out  of  prison  ;  and  to-day  —  not  next 
week,  mind  you.  Now,  has  any  one  anything  elso 
to  propose  ?  " 

•'  No." 

"  Very  well,  then  ;  we  had  better  get  a  lawyer. 
For  my  part,  I  can't  stand  still  and  do  nothing,  and 
you  can't,  either.  Whether  a  lawyer  ci  do  any- 
thing for  us  or  not,  is  a  different  matter  altogether. 
He  may  help  us,  or  he  may  not ;  but  at  any  rate, 
we  can  feel  that  we're  doing  something.  To  stand 
still,  and  mope,  and  groan,  or  to  go  skylarking  over 
the  Campagna,  on  a  wild-goose  chase  after  the 
American  minister,  isn't  the  best  way  to  help 
Uncle  Moses." 

"  So  I  say,"  cried  Bob,  energetically.  "  Let's 
do  something ;  no  matter  what  it  is." 

"Yes,"  said  Clive ;  "let's  get  a  lawyer  as  soon 
as  possible.  It's  the  only  thing  we  can  do  now. 
Whether  it's  the  best  thing  or  not  isn't  the  ques- 
tion ^t  all." 

"  0,  well,"  said  David,  "  there  isn't  anything  else 
to  be  done,  I  suppose.     But  how  can  we  find  one  ?  " 


206  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

"  0,  there  are  lots  of  them  about,  as  I  said,"  re- 
plied Frank.  "  We  must  first  go,  though,  to  the 
Hotel  dell'  Inghilterra,  and  make  inquiries  there. 
I  wouldn't  ask  the  waite  .s;  they  may  be  in  the 
pay  of  some  tenth-rate  lawyers.  I'd  prefer  asking 
some  English  or  Americans,  who  may  reside  here, 
if  we  can  find  any." 

"  But  how  can  we  communicate  with  the  lawver 
after  we  find  one  ?  "  said  David,  again  raising  an 
objection. 

"  ^^,  the  lawyer'!!  speak  English,  I  dare  say ;  or, 
if  not,  we  can  get  an  interpreter,"  said  Frank,  who 
was  as  quick  to  demolish  David's  objections  as 
David  was  at  raising  them.  "  0,  there  needn't 
be  a  bit  of  trouble  about  it  at  all.  It's  all  easy 
enough." 

Frank  spoke  in  such  a  tone  of  cheerfulness  that 
it  reassured  the  others,  and  filled  them  all  with 
something  of  the  same  feeling  of  hope  wliich  he 
evinced.  Once  more  there  arose  before  them  a 
more  encouraging  prospect.  A  change  came  ov  r 
them  all,  and  they  rose  out  of  the  extreme  prostra- 
tion of  spirits  which  had  been  caused  by  their  late 
despondency.  They  were  determined  now  to  think 
the  very  best  of  all  lawyers,  and  of  Roman  lawyers 
in  particular.  They  did  not  know  anything  of 
Romar  law,  nor  had  they  any  idea  of  what  the 
nature  of  Uncle  Moses'  off'ence  might  be ;  but  they 
believed  it  to  be  a  very  trivial  one,  and  assured 
themselves  that  he  only  needed  a  frank  explanation 


THE   FRIENDLY   WAITER.  207 

to  be  made  to  the  authorities  in  order  to  be  set  free 
at  once.  They  thus  reasoned  as  boys,  who  judge 
instinctively  from  le  laws  of  fair  play,  and  know 
nothing  of  the  sophisms  of  law  and  the  wiles  of 
lawyers ;  and  thus,  in  this  more  cheerful  frame  of 
mind,  they  hurried  back  with  the  intention  of  mak- 
ing further  inquiries  at  the  Hotel  dell'  Inghilterra. 
They  at  once  sought  the  waiter,  with  whom 
they  had  spoken  before;  for  Frank  thought  that, in 
spite  of  the  caution  which  he  had  just  advised  as 
to  accepting  the  recommendation  of  a  waiter,  it 
might  be  best  to  ask  his  opinion,  at  least.  With 
this  resolve,  then,  he  sought  him  out,  and  paved  the 
way  to  a  conversation  by  the  donation  of  a  half 
Napoleon  —  a  gold  coin,  equal  to  two  dollars  or  so. 
The  waiter  pocketed  it  with  a  beaming  smile,  and 
at  once  evinced  so  much  zeal  in  their  cause,  that 
Frank  was  delighted  with  the  success  of  his  little 
plan.  He  therefore  told  the  waiter  all  about  the 
arrest  of  Uncle  Moses,  its  cause,  its  accompani- 
ments, and  its  consequences  ;  about  theic  ineifectu- 
al  search  after  the  American  minister,  who  very 
unfortunately  happened  to  have  gone  away  to 
Tivoli ;  and  about  the  decision  to  which  they  had 
come  respecting  the  employment  of  a  lawyer.  The 
waiter  listened  to  all  this  with  the  deepest  atten- 
tion, with  an  expression  on  his  face  indicative  of 
the  profoundest  sympathy,  and  with  many  remarks 
full  of  concern.  Finally,  he  offered  to  find  for  them 
a  friend  of  his  who  would  take  them  to  a  lawyer. 


208  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

The  friend,  he  assured  them,  was  a  man  of  honor, 
and  tlie  lawyer  was  one  of  the  most  famous,  not 
only  in  Rome,  but  in  all  Italy,  or  even  in  all  Eu- 
rope. Would  they  wait  till  lie  went  in  search  of 
his  friend,  the  man  of  honor  ? 

They  would.  "• 

Whereupon  the  waiter  left  them,  and  at  once 
went  forth  to  seek  after  his  friend,  the  man  of 
honor,  who  was  to  introduce  the  boys  to  the  most 
famous  lawyer  in  Europe. 

The  boys  waited  there  for  the  return  of  their 
disinterested  friend.  As  they  waited,  a  gentleman 
approached  them.  He  had  been  sitting  in  the 
room,  and  had  heard  the  whole  conversation.  He 
now  came  up  to  them,  and  accosted  them  with  a 
friendly  smile. 

"  Your  uncle  seems  to  have  come  to  grief," 
said  he. 

By  his  accent  the  boys  knew  that  he  was  an  Eng- 
lishman. There  was  something  about  him  which 
invited  their  confidence.  He  was  a  man  of  middle 
age  and  of  medium  stature,  with  red  whiskers,  red 
face,  red  mustache,  red  hair,  red  eyebrows,  red 
nose,  and,  above  all,  a  glaring  red  neck-tie.  It  was 
not,  however,  this  tremendous  display  of  red  which 
attracted  the  regards  of  the  boys,  but  rather  the 
expression  of  his  face,  the  kindly  gleam  of  his  eye, 
the  genial  tone  of  his  voice,  and  the  warmth  of  his 
manner.  The  fact  that  he  cherished  a  taste  for  red 
neck-ties,  and  even,  as  they  afterwards  saw,  for  red 


THE  ENGLISHMAN.  209 

Bilk  pocket-handkerchiefs,  could  not  conceal  the 
sell-evident  fact  that  underneath  that  red  neck-tie 
there  was  a  warm  heart  and  a  manly  nature.  For 
this  reason,  therefore,  the  hearts  of  the  boys  warmed 
towards  this  new  acquaintance,  and  they  felt  a  sin- 
gular confidence  in  him. 

"  I've  heard  the  whole  story,  boys,"  said  he. 
"  I'm  sorry  for  you  ;  it's  confounded  hard  too  ;  but 
you  can't  do  anything,  you  know  —  that  is,  not 
to-day." 

"  But  we  must  do  something,"  said  Frank. 
"Uncle  Moses  must  be  got  out  to-day.  The  only 
way  we  can  think  of  is  to  get  a  lawyer.  It  seems 
about  the  most  natural  thing  to  do.  I  suppose  he'll 
be  able  to  do  something,  at  least,  for  Uncle  Moses, 
if  it  is  only  to  let  us  see  him.  The  American  min- 
ister would,  of  course,  be  the  best  one  for  us  to 
get ;  but  then  he's  out  of  town,  and  we  can't  wait. 
We  rnust  do  something." 

"Well,  I  understand  exactly  how  you  feel  —  im- 
patient, and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know," 
said  the  Englishman ;  "  still  you  ought  not  to  de- 
ceive yourselves  about  this,  you  know.  You  must 
bear  in  mind  the  important  fact  that  a  Roman  law- 
yer is  a  very  different  sort  of  personage  from  an 
English  lawyer,  or  an  American;  just  as  Roman 
law  is  different  from  English,  or  American.  I've 
lived  in  Italy  a  good  many  years,  boys.  I  know 
Rome  and  its  ways  better  than  most  people,  and  I 
tell  you,  sincerely,  that  there  isn't  a  Roman  lawyer 

14 


210  THE  SEVEN  IDLLS. 

living  who  will  not  take  advantage  of  you'  in  a 
hundred  different  ways,  and  cheat  you  out  of  your 
very  eyes.  You  don't  know  what  you  are  doing 
when  you  propose  to  engage  a  Roman  lawyer." 

"  But  what  can  we  do  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  Well,  you've  only  one  thing  to  do.  You'll  have 
to  rely  altogether  on  your  American  minister. 
He'll  be  able  to  do  more  than  a  hundred  Roman 
lawyers,  and  he'll  be  willing  to  do  more  than  ten 
thousand  of  them,  even  if  they  were  all  as  honest  as 
they  could  be.  The  fact  is,  your  American  minis- 
ter is  your  only  hope;  and  I'd  advise  you  to  drop 
your  idea  about  the  lawyer,  and  rely  altogether 
upon  your  fellow-countryman,  tlie  minister." 

"  But  he's  out  of  town ;  he's  at  Tivoli ;  and  we 
can't  tell  when  he'll  be  back,"  said  Frank. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Englishman  ;  "  so  I  heard  you 
say ;  and  that  is  very  unfortunate,  I  confess ;  but 
still  you'd  better  wait  for  him." 

"  Wait  for  him  ?  But  how  can  we  tell  when  he'll 
be  here  ?  " 

"  0,  he'll  probably  be  1  ack  to-morrow,  you  know," 
said  the  Englishman. 

"  But  we  want  to  get  Uncle  Moses  out  of  prison 
at  once  —  to-day,"  said  Frank,  impatiently. 

"  At  once  !  To-day  !  "  said  the  Englishman  ; 
"  and  you're  getting  a  Roman  lawyer  to  do  that  — 
are  you?  Why,  boys,  how  long  a  time  would  it 
be,  do  you  think,  before  your  Roman  lawyer  would 
get  him  out,  if  you  trusted  this  thing  to  him 
entirely  ?  " 


THE  englishman's   ADVICE.  211 

*'  I  don't  know,"  said  Frank. 

«  No  —  of  course  not,"  said  the  Englishman. 
"  Well,  I  should  say,  speaking  from  experience, 
that  six  years  would  be  a  moderate  allowance.  A 
very  conscientious  and  energetic  lawyer,  whose 
sympathies  were  all  enlistod  in  the  case,  might 
possibly  do  it  in  that  time.  The  majority,  however, 
would  spin  *it  out  to  twelve  years ;  many  of  them 
to  twenty.  Roman  law  1  Why,  there  isn't  any  law 
in  particular  here.  The  only  way  to  get  justice 
done,  is  to  bully  the  authorities.  Common  people 
have  no  chance.  Your  American  minister  is  your 
only  hope.  But  don't  be  alarmed.  America  has 
great  influence  in  every  court  in  Europe.  Your 
American  minister  can  free  him  in  half  an  hour, 
unless  he  has  done  something  very  serious  indeed. 
Your  uncle's  case  can  be  satisfactorily  explained, 
I  think.  They're  very  particular  here  with  sus- 
pected political  agents ;  but  it  can  easily  be  shown, 
1  think,  that  he  could  have  been  nothing  of  the 
kind.     0,  yes,  I  think  so.     In  fact,  I'm  sure  of  it." 

"  And  don't  you  think  that  a  lawyer  could  do 
anything  at  all  for  him  to-day,"  asked  Frank. 

"  Nothing  whatever,"  said  the  Englishman.  "  He 
can't;  and  what's  more,  he  won't.  The  American 
minister  is  your  only  chance." 

"  But  we  must  do  something  to-day,"  said  Frank. 

*'  0,  yes ;  I  know  all  that,"  said  the  Englishman. 
"I'm  awfully  sorry  for  you,  you  know;  and  I 
understand  exactly  how  you  feel.     I  wish  I  could 


212  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

do  something  myself,  but  I  can't ;  and  the  fact  is, 
your  only  liopo  is  in  the  American  mininter.  He 
will  procure  your  uncle's  release  at  once,  if  it  is 
possible.  Just  wait  patiently  till  ho  gets  back. 
Don't  go  near  any  of  the  l^oman  lawyers.  Mean- 
while, if  you  want  to  amuse  yourselves,  I'll  bo 
happy  to  take  you  round  the  town,  and  show  you 
some  things  that  are  not  generally  visited." 

"  You're  very  kind,"  said  Frank ;  "  but  we  don't 
feel  much  inclined  for  amusement  just  now.  Wo 
thank  you,  however,  for  the  kind  olfer.  But  wo 
can't  give  up  our  hope  of  doing  something  to-day 
for  Uncle  Moses,  and  we'll  visit  every  lawyer  in 
the  city,  and  every  one  else  that  can  do  anything, 
rather  than  give  it  up  and  wait." 

"  Well,  boys,  you're  right,"  said  the  Englishman; 
"  hang  it  all,  you're  right.  Go  about  as  you  pro- 
pose. Do  as  you  say.  But  above  all,  whatever 
you  do,  don't  forget  the  American  minister.  He's 
your  only  hope." 

"  0,  there's  no  fear,"  said  Frank,  "  whatever  we 
do,  or  wherever  we  go,  that  we'll  forget  liim. 
Only,  we  hope,  you  know,  to  get  Uncle  Moses  out 
before  to-morrov ;  and  so  we  hope  not  to  have  to 
go  to  the  American  minister  at  all." 

After  some  further  conversation,  the  Englishman 
went  off;  and  not  long  after,  the  waiter  returned. 
With  him  there  came  his  friend,  the  man  of  honor, 
who  would  show  them  the  first  lawyer  in  Eu- 
rope, and  act  as  interpreter  also.     The  interpreter 


SIGNOR  CUCINT.  213 

was  a  tliin,  bony,  sallow,  scody  personage,  vvlio 
spoko  very  fair  Enf^lish,  and  informed  them  that 
the  best  lawyer  in  Europe  was  one  Signer  Ciicini, 
to  whom  ho  would  bo  happy  to  introduce  tliem ; 
and  that  if  any  hiwyer  in  Europe  could  do  anything 
for  them,  that  lawyer  was  Signer  Cucini  himself. 
Tliis  information  roused  the  boys  from  the  dejec- 
tion into  which  they  had  been  thrown  by  the 
Englislimaivs  disparaging  remarks  about  Romiin 
lawyers,  and  they  at  once  urged  the  interpreter  to 
take  them  to  Signer  Cucini  as  soon  as  possil^le. 

In  a  short  time  they  stood  before  Signer  Cucini. 

They  found  him  in  a  little,  dingy  room,  in  the 
basement  of  a  gloomy  edifice,  in  a  remote  part  of 
the  city.  Around  the  room  stood  a  few  boxes,  of 
enormous  size,  while  in  the  middle  were  a  huge 
table  and  three  heavy  stools,  which  comprised  the 
furniture.  The  light,  which  struggled  in  through 
a  window  covered  with  dust  and  cobwebs,  dis- 
closed the  person  of  the  lawyer  himself.  He  was 
a  thin,  attenuated  person,  with  wizened  features, 
sallow  skin,  carroty  hair,  unshaven  beard,  and  ex- 
ceedingly dirty  hands.  He  wore  a  long  black 
gown,  which  was  fastened  about  the  waist  with  a 
cord ;  and  this  gave  him  so  ecclesiastical  an  appear- 
•  ancie,  that  the  boys  thought  he  must  be  a  priest. 

After  having  learned  their  case.  Signer  Cucini 
fell  into  a  profound  fit  of  abstraction.  The  boys 
grew  impatient,  and  urged  the  interpreter  to  ask 
what  could  be  done.     The  interpreter  did  so. 


2U  TUE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

4 

Si^nor  Cuoini  tlioroupon  looked  Rtcadily  at  his 
youtlilid  clients  ;  then  lie  turned  over  Bome  papers ; 
after  which  ho  said,  slowly  and  solemnly,  — 

"Very  well.     Yes,  I  will  undeitakc  the  case." 

Ho  then  asked  the  address  of  the  prisoner,  and 
jotted  down  the  particulais  of  the  case. 

"  Ask  him  what  time  to-day  he  can  get  out," 
said  Frank. 

The  interpreter  did  so,  with  a  half  smile. 

"  To-day  I "  said  Cucini.    "  What  do  they  mean  ?  " 

"  They're  Americans,"  said  the  interpreter. 
"  They  don't  know  any  better." 

"To-day!  They're  mad!"  said  Cucini.  "To- 
day  I  Tell  them  that  it  will  take  more  than  five 
weeks  to  go  through  the  preliminaries  of  so  com- 
plicated a  case  as  this.  Why,  the  mere  writing 
of  documents  connected  with  this  case  would  tako 
up  eighteen  or  twenty  days  I " 

The  interpreter  transhtted  this.  The  boys  looked 
at  one  another  in  dismay.  So  great  was  their  con- 
sternation that  they  did  not  say  a  single  word.  A 
common  conviction  came  to  them  that  the  English- 
man was  right,  and  that  the  American  minister 
was  their  only  hope.  From  this  one  remark  of  the 
Roman  lawyer  they  all  felt  the  utter  hopelessness 
of  any  help  from  this  quarter.  They  did  not  at- 
tempt to  remone.trate,  or  to  influence  Signer  Cucini 
in  any  way  whatever.  Frank  rose  from  his  seat ; 
the  others  did  the  same.     They  then  bowed  them- 


NO   HOPE   FOR   THE  PRISONER.  215 

selves  out  in  silence,  and  retired,  followed  by  the 
interpreter. 

They  walked  back  to  their  lodgings  in  deep 
perplexity.  Each  one  was  thinking  over  the  case  ; 
yet  no  one  had  any  suggestion  to  make.  They 
could  only  conclude  to  wait  for  the  return  of  tho 
American  minister. 


216  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  new  Plan.  —  A  Frieiid  in  Need.  —  Hope  arises,  but  is 
'  followed  by  Despondency. —  The  Agony  of  Hope  deferred. 
—  Back  to  their  Lodgings. —  Uncle  Moses.— Immense 
Sensation.  —  foyful  Rcnnioji.  —  TJie  singular  Report  of 
Uncle  Moses.  —  Unusual  Prison  Fare.  —  Ludlow  to  tJie 
Rescue. 

jfe)  WONDER,"    said    David,   as   they   walked 

JrJ^  along,  "  if  it  would  be  any  use  for  us  to  go 
to  the  English  ambassador." 

"  The  English  ambassador?"  said  Frank.  "  Why 
should  we  go  to  him  ?  " 

"  0,  I  don't  know,"  said  David.  "  It  is  only  be- 
cause he  speaks  English  that  I  thought  of  him.  If 
the  French  or  German  ambassador  could  speak 
English,  I  would  just  as  soon  go  to  them." 

"  And  none  of  them  would  undertake  the  cause 
of  poor  Uncle  Moses,"  said  Clive.  "  An  ambassa- 
dor thinks  he  has  enough  to  do,  I  fancy,  in  attend- 
ing to  men  of  his  own  nation,  without  bothering 
about  men  of  other  nations." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Bob,  "  that  there  was  an  Irish 
ambassador  here.     I'd  go  to  him  fast  enough." 

"  Especially  if  he  was  like  Padre  O'Toule,"  said 
Frank. 


THE   GENDARME.  2.7 

"  Padre  O'Toule  I "  cried  David,  stopping  short 
as  he  walked,  and  striking  both  hands  together. 
"  Why,  he's  the  very  man  for  us  !  Why  in  the 
world  didn't  we  think  of  him  before  ?  " 

"  bo  he  is,"  said  Frank,  "  sure  enough !  He's 
the  very  man  for  us,  and  he'll  do  anything  we 
want." 

"  Let's  go  at  once,"  oaid  David,  "  and  try  to  find 
him." 

"I  wonder  if  we'll  have  time,"  said  Clive. 

"  0,  yes,  lots  of  time,"  said  David,  "  if  we  only 
hurry." 

The  boys  now  started  off  as  fast  as  they  could 
go  for  St.  Peter's,  in  search  of  their  friend,  the 
Irish  priest.  Padre  O'Toule.  It  was  as  much  as 
two  miles  away ;  but  they  got  a  cab,  and  before 
long  reached  the  place.  Then  they  entered  the 
well-known  incline,  and  hurried  to  the  top  of  tlie 
cathedral.  Or.  reaching  the  roof,  they  were  all 
very  much  out  of  breath ;  and  on  looking  around 
they  saw  nothing  of  their  friend.  Upon  this  they 
walked  around  to  that  little  chamber  where  the 
good  pi 'est  had  given  them  an  audience  on  their 
former  visit.  On  the  ^vay  they  were  met  face  to 
fice  by  a  stiff  gendarme,  who  seemed  to  them  the 
very  counterpart  of  that  cast-iron  potentate  who 
had,  on  the  former  occasion,  held  them  in  captivity 
for  a  time.  The  boys,  however,  did  not  look  at 
him  very  closely,  but  kept  their  eyes  fixed  straight 
before  them,  while  the  gendarme,  if  he  really  was 


218  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

flioir  former  onemy,  did  not  seem  to  recognize 
them  now,  for  he  paid  no  attention  to  them  wliat- 
ever.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  reHef  that  they 
passed  him  without  being  stopped ;  and  in  a  few 
minutes  tliey  found  themselves  at  the  door  of  the 
priest's  little  chamber. 

The  door  was  open,  and  to  their  great  joy,  on 
looking  in,  they  saw  the  jovial  face  of  Padre 
O'Toule  himself. 

"  Tare  an  ages  !  "  he  exclaimed,  starting  up,  and 
coming  forward  as  he  recognized  them.  "  Sure 
but  it's  meself  that's  glad  to  see  yez,  so  it  is  I  But 
what's  come  over  yez,"  ho  continued,  noticing  the 
sad  and  anxious  expression  of  their  faces.  "  Sure 
it's  trouble  ye're  in,  thin  ?  What  is  it,  thin  ?  Sure 
it's  meself  that'll  be  glad  to  do  anythin  I  can  to 
hilp  yez,  if  I  can,  so  it  is.'' 

Upon  this  Frank  began,  and  told  him  all  about 
the  misfortune  that  had  befallen  Uncle  Moses,  to- 
gether with  their  own  doings.  At  first  the  priest 
seemed  to  take  it  as  a  joke ;  but  as  they  went  on 
to  speak  about  his  arrest,  and  his  removal  in  a  cab, 
the  merry  face  grew  less  merry,  and  a  shade  of 
anxiety  came  over  it,  which  the  boys  were  quick 
to  notice. 

When  they  spoke  about  their  search  after  the 
Amei'ican  minister,  he  nodded  his  head  approving- 
ly, and  said,  — 

"  Sure  that's  the  very  best  thing  ye  cud  do,  so  it 
is.  An  he's  the  man  that'll  make  it  all  right  for  yez." 


A   FRIEND   IN   NEED.  219 

But  tiien  tlioy  went  on  to  explain  tlieir  iinpn- 
tience,  and  their  eagerness  to  have  Uncle  Moses 
released  at  once,  together  with  their  visit  to  Sig- 
ner Cucini. 

At  which  Padre  O'TouIe  shook  his  head  signifi- 
cantly, and  remarked, — 

"  'Dade,  thin,  an  it's  well  ye're  not  in  the  clutches 
of  that  same  Cucini,  for  it's  an  owld  blackgyard  ho 
is  ;  it's  a  leech  that  he  is,  and  he'd  suck  yer  warrum 
heart's  blood  out  of  yez,  if  he  cud,  so  he  would, 
the  thafe  of  the  wurruld  !  " 

When  the  boys  had  ended  their  story.  Padre 
O'Toule  remained  in  silence  for  some  time. 

"  Sure  an  he'll  get  out  fast  enough,"  said  he,  at 
length,  "  whin  the  American  plinopitintiary  ex- 
trardinary  comes  back  here,  for  it  needs  only  a 
brief  steetmint  from  that  same.  The  ony  trouble 
is,  he  mayn't  be  back  for  a  month,  an  ye  want  to 
get  him  out  this  day.  An  sure  an  it's  meself  that 
would  be" glad  to  do  that  same  for  yez,  if  I  could, 
an  ril  thry,  so  I  will ;  for  Pve  got  a  frind  that's 
butler  to  one  of  the  cj^ardinals,  an  I  can  get  the 
ear  of  his  imminiace,  I  think ;  but  not  to-day,  an 
there's  the  trouble.  Ye  see,  boys,  there's  trouble 
abuut,  an  what  with  the  Liberls,  an  the  Radicals, 
an  till!  Atheists,  an  the  Carbonari,  an  the  Garibal- 
diui,  the  police  have  their  hands  full,  so  they  have. 
An  what's  more,  by  the  same  token,  the  life  of  his 
holiness — more  power  to  his  elbow  !  —  has  been 
minaced,  an  ayvin  shot  at  several  times  of  late. 


220  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

An  that's  why  your  uncle's  case  was  taken  up  so 
severely.  They  don't  know  him,  an  they'll  send 
out  spies  everywhere  to  find  out  who  he  is,  an 
whether  he's  an  imissary  of  any  of  the  saycrit  so- 
cieties. I  tell  you  this,  boys  dear,  not  to  make  you 
alarrumed,  but  simply  to  let  you  prepare  your- 
selves for  a  little  disappointment.  Ye  may  have  to 
wait  longer  to  get  him  out  than  ye  expected ;  but 
this  much  ye  may  comfort  yerselves  wid^  that  he'll 
get  out  in  time,  an  before  very  long." 

At  this  the  boys  all  exchanged  glances  of  sad- 
ness and  consternation.  They  had  expected  some- 
thing far,  very  far  different. 

"  Sure  an  don't  look  so  disconsolate,"  said  the 
priest,  kindly,  and  with  a  lace  full  of  sympathy. 
"  I'll  start  off  at  once,  and  see  what  I  can  do.  I'll 
hunt  up  me  friend,  the  butler  of  his  imminince,  an 
perhaps  I  can  do  somethin,  after  all.  I'll  do  what 
I  can.  An  now  you  try  to  cheer  up,  boys,  jools, 
an  I'll  be  off  at  once.  Ony  ye  must  remimbeir  that 
I'm  only  a  humble  praste,  an  haven't  got  any  influ- 
ence to  back  me ;  but  I'll  do  what  I  can." 

With  these  words  the  priest  arose,  and  started 
off  at  once,  followed  by  the  boys.  They  all  de- 
scended the  incline  together.  They  traversed  the 
piazza,  and  went  down  the  street  that  leads  to  the 
Bridge  of  St.  Angelo.  Tiiis  they  crossed  in  silence. 
On  reaching  the  other  side,  the  priest  stopped. 

"  Where  are  you  living  ?  "  he  asked. 

They  told  him  their  address. 


DESPONDENCY.  221 

"Well,"  said  he,  "you  go  straight  homo  to  yer 
lodgings,  an  make  yer  minds  as  ayzy  as  ye  con- 
vayniently  can.  I  have  to  go  down  this  way.  I'll 
look  in  some  time  before  night,  tliough,  and  tell  yez 
what  the  prospects  are.  Ony  don't  be  too  impa- 
tient. Try  an  assure  yerselves  that  he's  all  safe. 
He'll  be  all  right,  ye  know.  Sure  an  he  can't  suf- 
fer a  mite  of  harrum,  at  all,  at  all,  an  he'll  be  as 
comfortable  where  he  is  as  anywhere,  barrin  the 
confinement." 

With  these  words  the  priest  left  them ;  and  the 
boys,  in  sadnei?s  and  in  silence,  continued  their 
way  to  their  lodgings. 

It  was  in  a  deeply-despondent  mood  tliat  they 
reached  this  place,  and  went  up  to  their  chambers. 
The  situation  of  itself  was  one  which  now  seemed 
bad  enough  to  fill  them  all  with  gloom  and  anxiety  ; 
but  in  addition  to  this,  they  all  were  now  completely 
worn  out  from  sheer  fatigue.  They  had  gone  so 
far,  first  in  pursuing  the  cab,  then  in  going  after 
the  American  minister,  and  finally  in  the  toilsome 
ascent  to  the  roof  of  St.  Peter's,  that  they  could 
scarcely  get  up  stairs  to  their  own  rooms.  This 
weariness  of  body,  therefore,  made  them  fall  more 
completely  a  prey  to  their  disappointment  and 
trouble  of  mind. 

Thus  they  slowly  toiled  up  the  stairs  that  led  to 
their  chambers  —  Frank  first,  next  David,  next 
Clive,  and  Bob  brought  up  the  rear.  Slowly  and 
gloomily  they  went  up.    None  of  them  spoke  a 


222  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

word.  All  were  thinking  in  deep  dejection,  while 
Frank  was  turning  over  in  his  mind  various  argu- 
ments for  and  against  a  plan  which  he  had  pro- 
posed of  getting  a  carriage  at  once,  and  driving 
out  to  Tivoli,  so  as  to  secure  tlie  American  minis- 
ter. Beyond  this  no  one  had  anything  in  his  mind. 
Such,  then,  was  their  general  state  of  body  and  of 
mind,  when  Frank  placed  his  hand  on  the  door- 
knob. 

He  turned  it  in  a  slow,  dejected  way. 

He  opened  it,  his  eyes  on  the  floor,  with  all  his 
gloom,  grief,  disappointment,  despondency,  anxiety, 
and  trouble  now  at  the  utmost  height. 

Thus  he  opened  the  door. 

The  next  instant  a  shout  of  amazement  burst 
from  him,  and  not  from  him  only,  but  from  all  the 
others  also. 

For  there  I 

Calmly  seated  on  an  easy-chair ! 

Slippers  on  his  feet  1 

And  those  feet  perched  upon  the  table,  so  that 
the  soles  were  towards  the  boys ! 

Sitting  -in  such  a  way  that  he  would  face  any 
one  entering,  evidently  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the 
boys,  with  a  mild  light  in  his  eyes,  and  a  bland 
smile  on  his  lips,  and  an  expression  on  his  face  of 
general  peace  and  good  will  to  all  mankind,  not 
excepting  his  late  persecutors  !    - 

There,  so  sitting,  so  looking,  so  smihng,  they  be- 
held Uncle  Moses  I 


ENTHUSIASM   OF  THE  BOYS.  223 

One  long,  loud,  wild,  enthusiastic  sliout,  and  tho 
next  instant  the  delighted  boys  were  all  iipontlicir 
venerable  and  rejoicing  relative.  ■  They  seized  his 
hands,  his  arms,  his  legs,  his  head,  any  part  of  him 
that  happened  to  be  most  convenient,  or  at  all  seiz- 
able,  and  each  one  thus  seizing  it  proceeded  to 
shake  it,  or  to  squeeze  it,  most  vehemently. 

Fully  a  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed  before  Uncle 
Moses  could  utter  a  single  word.  One  reason  was, 
that  he  was  too  much  pulled  and  shaken  about  by 
the  boys  to  be  capable  of  expressing  himself  in  an 
articulate  manner ;  and  another  was,  that  the  boys 
themselves  cried,  and  shouted,  and  vociferated  so 
continuously,  so  irrepressibly,  and  so  deafeningly, 
that  the  few  words  which  he  did  succeed  in  utter- 
ing were  not  at  all  audible.  But  at  length  the 
boys  were  compelled  to  desist  out  of  sheer  weari- 
ness, and  the  uproar  subsided  in  some  degree,  and 
Uncle  Moses  was  able  to  make  himself  heard  *; 
whereupon  he  began  to  give  an  account  of  him- 
self. 

*'  Wal,  boys,"  said  he,  "  you  saw  me  git  into 
that  thar  cab,  an  drive  off,  or  git  druv  off.  I  felt 
dreadful  homesick,  an  pined  arter  you,  an  felt  sick 
with  anxiety  about  you  ;  an  what  with  bein  carted 
away  from  you,  with  two  po-licemen  in  front  of  me 
an  one  on  the  driver's  box  outside,  it  want  an 
agreeable  sitooation  by  no  manner  of  means,  mind 
I  tell  you,  particoorlarly  as  I  couldn't  speak  one 
single,  solituary  word  of  their  language,  an  couldn't 


224  -  THE   SEVEN   HTLLS. 

mako  out  a  word  of  their  gibberish  when  they 
chattered  to  oi]o  another ;  so  we  druv  an  druv,  it 
seemed  about  twenty  mile  an  more,  though  in  ac- 
tool  reality  it  wan't  so  very  far,  arter  all.  At  last 
we  came  to  a  black  an  gloomy  buildin  in  a  street  I 
never  saw  before,  an  don't  intend  ever  to  see  agin 
ef  I  can  help  it. 

"  Wal,  I  tliought  they  were  goin  to  thrust  me 
into  one  of  the  dungeons  of  the  Inquisition,  sure; 
but  they  wan't,  an  they  didn't.  On  the  contrary, 
they  took  me  into  a  very  tasty  an  stylish  room  — 
marble  pavements,  pictoors,  statutes,  an  all  that, 
with  easy-chairs  an  luxoorus  couches.  An  as  I  ar- 
rove  there,  I  was  asked  to  set  down  ;  so  down  I 
acoordinly  sot. 

''  Wal,  arter  waitin  a  few  minutes,  an  elderly 
gentleman  come  in.  Ho  was  dressed  in  some  kind 
o'  uniform,  an  wan't  bad  lookin,  considerin  he  was 
a  /-talian.  With  him  there  was  another  person, 
who  was  dressed  common.  They  both  took  a  good 
stare  at  me,  an  I  bore  it  very  meekly,  bein  as  how 
1  was  in  their  power,  an  didn't  want  to  make  a 
unfavorable  impression  on  their  inquirin  minds. 
Then  the  common-dressed  person  spoke  to  me  in 
English.  He  spoke  English  very  well.  He  asked 
me  all  about  myself —  whar  I  come  from,  whar  I 
was  goin  to,  an  who  were  with  me.  I  told  him 
everythin,  made  a  clean  breast  of  it,  all  fair  an 
square,  an  honest,  an  open,  an  aboveboard ;  an  ar- 
ter every  word  he'd  stop,  an  talk  to  the  other,  jest, 


UNCLE  M03E3'   ACCOUNT.  225 

yon  know,  as  if  he  was  translatin  it  into  /talian. 
Wai,  this  quoationin  lasted  for  a  long  time,  but  it 
wan't  onpleasant ;  it  was  all  very  ])olito  an  respect- 
ful, an  the  man  in  uniform  smiled  several  times 
quite  good-natured  like,  an  this  made  mo  feel  re- 
lieved considerable. 

"  Wal,  tills  questionin  camo  to  an  end  at  last,  an 
arter  it  was  over,  they  went  away,  an  I  sot  there 
waitin,  an  wonderin  what  would  turn  up  next.  I 
begun  to  feel  a  little  hopeful ;  still  I  didn't  know 
but  what  the  next  moment  I'd  be  taken  off  to  a 
dungeon.  Wal,  I  heard  footsteps,  an  thinkses  I, 
this  here's  the  po-lice  ;  they're  a  comin  with  chains 
an  manacles.  An  sure  enough  it  was  the  po-lice  ; 
an  what  do  you  think  they  brought?" 

None  of  the  boys  could  guess. 

"  Why,  a  tray,  with  coffee  an  biscuit.  Now, 
wan't  that  pooty  tall  treatment  ?  I  caPlate  it  was. 
Wal,  did  I  eat  an  drink  ?  I  did.  Wal,  arter  this 
the  time  seemed  a  leetle  mite  dull,  an  so  about  two 
hours  passed.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the  man  in 
uniform  come  in,  bringin  with  him  another  man; 
an  who  do  you  think  he  was  ?  " 

The  boys  could  not  think. 

"  Guess." 

The  boys  declared  they  could  not. 

"  Yes,  you  can,"  said  Uncle  Moses.  "  Of  course 
you  can,  for  thar's  ony  one  man  there  could  be, 
that  you  know." 

At  this  Bob  at  once  cried  out,  — 
15 


226  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

"  Ludlow  !  Liullow  !  " 

"  Tho  very  man." 

"  Why,  is  ho  Iiero  ?  "  criod  tho  boys,  in  great 
dehglit. 

"  Ho  is ;  an  what's  more,  ho  was  tho  man  that 
got  mo  ofT." 

"  Plurrah  !  hurrali !  "  cried  all  tho  boys.  "  And 
is  his  wife  hero,  too  ?  And  can  we  see  him  ?  Is 
he  going  to  stay  here  ?  " 

"  Wal,  he  is,  I  do  believe,"  said  Uncle  Moses. 
''  He's  comin  here  to  stay  some  considerable  time, 
—  longer'n  we  air,  at  all  events, —  so  you'll  see 
him  often  enough.  1  believe  he's  goin  to  spend 
most  of  his  time  here  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  for 
that's  the  way  of  these  painter  people  ;  but,  at  any 
rate,  I'll  finish  my  story. 

"  He  looked  fairly  dumbfounded  when  he  saw 
me,  an  one  of  us  was  as  much  amazed  as  the  other. 
But  the  moment  he  recognized  me,  he  bust  into  a 
roar  of  laughter,  an  then  rushed  up,  an  shook  my 
hand  so  that  I  ain't  begun  to  git  over  it  yet.  Wal, 
then  he  asked  me  all  about  it,  an  I  told  him  every- 
thin  over  again.  He  listened,  an  went  on  laughin 
as  I  told  him  about  it ;  an  finally  he  told  me  that 
it  was  all  right,  an  that  the  authorities  had  al- 
ready made  up  their  minds  that  I  was  a  harmless 
character.  But  he  explained  all  about  the  reason 
why  they  arrested  me.  You  see  they  were  afcard 
at  first  that  I  might  be  some  refoogee,  bandit,  or 
somethin,  an  so  took  me  up.     The  pope's  life  has 


UNCLE  MOSES'   ACCOUNT.  227 

been  threatened,  an  all  that.  "Wal,  Mr.  Ludlow  ex- 
plained all  about  mo.  It  sccmH  tlicy  had  gone  out 
for  some  American,  who  might  see  me  an  testify 
to  me,  an  had  hit  on  him  by  chance  ;  an  so  when 
ho  explained,  the  end  of  it  was,  they  let  me  off. 
The  fact  of  it  is,"  continued  Uncle  Moses,  emphati- 
cally, "  considcriu  evorythin,  I  think  they  treated 
me  oncoraraon  handsome  ;  an  I  don't  believe,  ef  an 
7-talian  was  to  frighten  our  president  that  way,  an 
try  to  git  at  him  by  breakin  through  a  file  of  sol- 
diers, I  don't  believe  our  ^o-lico  would  give  him  a 
lunch  an  let  him  off,  the  way  the  Roman  ^o-lice  let 
me  off.  That  was  Mr.  Ludlow's  opinion,  an  that's 
mine,  tew." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  here  in  the  rooms, 
uncle  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  Wal,  I  come  straight  here  as  soon  as  I  could. 
I  felt  dreadful  anxious  about  you.  I've  ben  here 
nearly  t\^o  hours,  an  I've  ben  a  wonderin  where 
you  all  could  be.  I  couldn't  go  out  an  hunt  you 
up,  for  I  didn't  know  where  to  go  to  fust ;  so  I 
jest  sot  down  here,  an  here  I've  sot  ever  sence. 
An  now,  boys,  tell  me  what  you've  ben  a  doin  with 
yourselves." 

Upon  this  the  boys  began  to  tell  him  all  about 
their  fears,  griefs,  and  anxieties  ;  their  chase  after 
him ;  their  search  after  the  American  ambassador ; 
their  interview  with  the  lawyer ;  and  their  last 
resort  to  Padre  O'Toule  ;    to  all  of  which  Uncle 


228  THE  SEVEN  HTLLP. 

Moses  listened  with  tho  most  intense  interest,  and 
iiitorruptod  tho  story  incessantly  with  exclama- 
tions indicative  of  grief,  symi)athy,  astonishment, 
indignation,  and  many  other  feelings  of  a  similar 
character; 


l,■^-,^. 


r'. :,,   0'lv>;-.)''.-.u'i''^'  ''■'  '"ij-- '' 


CELEBRATION  OP  UNCLE  MOSES'  DELIVERY.    229 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Celebration  of  the  Captive's  delivery. — Arrival  of  Ludlow. 
—  Cons;rat Illations.  —  Padre  G'  Toiile  is  dumbfounded.  — 
The  Roman  Season.  —  The  Approach  of  lient.  —  Farewell 
to  Gayety.  —  The  Glories ^  and  Wonders^  and  Festivities^ 
and  Extravagances  of  the  great  Roman  Carnival. 

Js^  FTER  tliG  first  joy  at  their  reunion  liacl 
^/^Jv^  subsided,  their  universal  tliought  was  about 
4/4  dinner ;  for  none  of  the  boys  had  eaten  any- 
thing since  morning,  and  the  prison  faro  of  Uncle 
MosGs  had  not  altogether  taken  the  edge  off  his  ap- 
petite. But  now  the  appetites  of  the  boys,  which, 
during  the  anxieties  of  this  eventful  day,  had  been 
under  a  cloud,  and  quite  dormant,  now  revived  and 
asserted  themselves  in  a  way  that  was  too  vehe- 
ment to  be  denied.  A  half-starved  band,  they  there- 
fore sallied  forth  from  their  rooms  to  fly  to  that 
cafe  which  was  their  usual  resort.  Here  they  set- 
tled themselves  for  a  solid,  substantial  repast, 
which  should  restore  fainting  nature,  satisfy  the 
demands  of  appetite  to  the  uttermost,  and  make 
am^.^ds,  as  far  as  possible,  for  the  enforced  self-de- 
nials of  the  day. 

Towards  the  close  of  which  pleasing  and  impor- 


230  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

tant  duty  they  were  roused  by  a  thnnderons  langh, 
and  the  approach  of  a  tall  and  burly  form,  bearing 
a  head  with  bus^hy  hair,  and  whiskered  face. 

At  the  sight  of  which  every  one  of  the  four  boys 
dropped  knives,  forks,  and  spoons,  rose  to  their 
feet,  and  rushed  forth  to  greet  the  new  comer. 

It  was  Ludlow.  v  v    - 

He  wrung  their  hands  all  round. 

"  I've  been  k)  your  rooms,"  said  he,  "  to  find  out 
whether  you  had  got  your  runaway  uncle  back 
again,  and  to  see  whether  said  runaway  had  fallen 
into  an}"  fresh  difficulties  or  not.  I  found  you  had 
all  come  here,  and  very  properly  ;  so  I  trotted  along 
after  you."  <;*  •.  .; >  ,.. 

Now  followed  any  quantity  of  questions  and  an- 
swers from  both  sides.  Ludlow  must  know  what 
the  boys  had  been  doing,  and  how  they  had  passed 
the  time  during  the  loss  of  their  uncle  and  guar- 
dian. He  thought  that,  on  the  whole,  they  had 
done  very  well  indeed.  He  also  must  hear  the 
whole  story  of  Uncle  Moses  and  his  attack  upon 
the  Swiss  halberdiers  once  again ;  and  he  heard  it 
once  again,  with  additions  volunteered  by  all  the 
boys,  each  one  giving  some  fresh  statement  from 
his  own  point  of  view  ;  at  which  the  bold  Ludlow 
laughed  long  and  laughed  hugely ;  and,  following 
this  up,  he  made  them  tell?  him  all  the  incidents 
connected  with  their  visit  to  Rome,  and,  in  fact,  all 
the  adventures  which  they  had  met  with  since  they 
left  him. 


ARRIVAL   OP  LUDLOW.  231 

"  But  we  didn't  expect  to  meet  you  here,"  said 
Prank. 

"  0,  my  wife  was  crazy  to  come  here.  This  is 
the  great  Roman  season,  you  know.  There's  no 
place  in  the  world  equal  to  Rome  at  this  time." 

*' And  has  your  wife  come  with  yoa?"  asked 
David. 

"  My  wife  come  with  me  ?  "  said  Ludlow.  "  Of 
course  she  has.  I'd  like  to  see  myself  coming  hero 
at  such  a  time  as  this  without  her." 

"  0,  how  glad  I  am  !  I  should  so  love  to  see 
her  1 "  said  David. 

"  Well,  Davey,  my  boy,  that's  a  state  of  mind 
with  which  I  fully  sympathize,"  said  Ludlow  ;  "  and 
I  admire  your  taste.  I  may  also  add  that  your 
feelings  are  fully  reciprocated,  and  I  am  sure  Mrs. 
Ludlow  will  be  delighted  to  see  you,  and  not  only 
you,  Davey,  my  lad,  but  all  of  you  boys  ;  so  come, 
as  they  say  on  the  election  notices,  come  early 
and  come  often.  We're  stopping  at  the  Hotel 
Vitruvio,  close  by  here. 

"  I  wouldn't  be  away  from  Rome  at  this  season," 
said  Ludlow,  "  for  all  that  the  world  calls  great  and 
good.  It  is  the  Roman  season  —  the  time  when 
Rome  stands  alone,  unequalled  in  attractions,  and 
unapproachable.  Lent  is  coming.  To-morrow  the 
Carnival  begins.  It  lasts  for  a  whole  week,  al- 
though the  Carnival  proper  only  takes  up  the  last 
day.  What  is  the  Carnival  ?  Well,  I'd  rather  be 
excused  from  trying  to  explain.     Wait  one  week. 


232  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

Then  you'll  know  what  the  Carnival  is,  and  you'll 
understand  why  I  decline  describing  it. 

"  Well  —  then  comes  Lent.  Rome  is  great  all 
through  Lent,  religiously,  but  I  came  here  perhaps 
rather  for  art  than  for  religion.  It's  the  season 
when  visitors  crowd  here  to  an  enormous  degree, 
and  among  them  come  lots  of  friends,  and  also 
brother  artists.  I  expect  to  meet  ever  so  many 
people  tliat  I  want  most  particularly  to  see.  And 
tlien,  Mrs.  Ludlow's  perfectly  crazy  about  the  reli- 
gious services  of  holy  week  and  the  illumination 
of  St.  Peter's.  :  .,  ^  r.W 

"  The  illumination  of  St.  Peter's?  "  said  Ludlow, 
in  answer  to  a  question  from  Clive.  "  Well,  my 
boy,  in  answer  to  that  I  can  only  say  as  I  said  about 
the  Carnival,  that  Pd  rather  be  excused  from  de- 
scribing it.  It's  indescribable.  There's  nothing 
like  it  in  all  the  world.  It  stands  alone  and  unap- 
proachable, like  RafTaelle's  Transfiguration,  like  the 
Apollo  Belvedere,  like  Handel's  Messiah,  like 
Niagara,  or,  I  may  add,  like  St.  Peter's  itself. 
Now,  St.  Peter's  itself,  in  ordinary  daylight,  is  sim- 
ply one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world;  but  imagine 
that  astonishing  structure  suddenly  bursting  into 
sight  from  out  the  midst  of  darkness,  with  all  its 
vast  outlines  marked  by  myriads  of  lamps,  with 
crowns  of  glory  cresting  the  mighty  dome,  and  cir- 
cles of  radiance  surrounding  it  from  the  base  to  the 
cupola,  —  imiigin^  all  this,  and  then  you'll  have  but 
a  faint  idea  of  what  is  meant  by  the  iiiamination 


PADRE  o'toule.  233 

of  St.  Peter's.  Now,  that's  one  of  the  things  I've 
come  to  see,  and  show  Mrs.  Ludlow.  The  sea.'son 
of  Rome  begins  witli  the  Carnival  and  ends  with  the 
illumination  of  St.  Peter's." 

After  much  further  conversation  Ludlow  left 
them,  promising  soon  to  see  them  again,  and  to 
show  them  all  the  great  works  of  art  which  Rome 
possessed.     They  also  returned  to  their  rooms. 

On  reaching  them  they  began  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  the  following  day,  when  they  were  inter- 
rupted by  a  hurried  knock  at  the  door.  Bob 
opened  it. 

Padre  O'Toule  stood  there.  He  looked  much 
changed.  The  rosy  cheeks  had  gone,  the  jovial 
expression  had  vanished.  He  was  pale  and 
troubled. 

"  Are  ye  all  here,  boys,  jools  ?  "  he  asked  as  he 
entered,  throwing  a  wistful  gaze  over  the  party. 
As  he  did  so  he  recognized  the  form  of  Uncle 
Moses,  which  was  decidedly  conspicuous  in  the  lit- 
tle assembly. 

"  Tare  an  ages  !  "  he  cried  ;  "  what's  this  ?  What 
d'ye  all  look  so  overjoyed  about  ?  Have  ye  got 
him,  thin  ?  an  is  this  himself?  " 

The  voice  of  the  worthy  Padre  O'Toule  trembled 
with,  emotion  as  he  asked  this.  All  was  soon  ex- 
plained, and  Padre  O'Toule's  own  visit  was  also 
explained.  It  seemed  that  he  had  been  unable  to 
find  *'  his  frind  that  was  butler  to  his  Iminince," 
and,  after  much  search,  had  learned  that  he  had 


234  THE   SEVEN  HILLS. 

gone  to  Naples  for  a  few  weeks.  Ho  then  had 
tried  to  see  the  authorities,  but  without  success. 
Ho  had  come  now,  full  of  grief,  to  advise  the  boys 
to  be  patient  till  the  return  of  the  American  am- 
bassador, and  to  bewail  his  own  failure.  But  he 
had  found  Uncle  Moses  himself  present. 

So  great  was  the  revulsion  of  feeling  in  the  mind 
of  the  worthy  Padre  O'Toule,  that  he  remained  for 
a  long  time  enjoying  the  situation.  In  an  instant 
he  himself  had  passed  from  gloom  to  happiness,  and 
the  pallor  of  his  face  and  the  anxious  expression 
were  exchanged  for  the  hue  of  rosy  red  and  the 
brightness  of  jovial  mirth.  He  interrogated  Uncle 
Moses  closely,  and  struck  up  a  friendship  with 
him.  For  the  advances  of  the  worthy  priest  were 
met  by  Uncle*  Moses  more  than  half  way,  who,  like 
the  boys,  and  in  fact  like  all  Americans,  recognized 
in  this  priest  an  Irishman  and  a  brother.  It  was 
the  brogue  that  softened  Uncle  Moses'  too  suscep- 
tible heart ;  and  as  his  old  prejudices  against  Roman 
ecclesiastics  had  already  been  dispelled  by  the 
treatment  which  he  had  himself  received  at  their 
hands,  so  now  this  new  manifestation  of  the  Roman 
priesthood  was  nothing  else  than  most  pleasing 
and  most  welcome.  Uncle  Moses  therefore  con- 
ceived a  very  strong  regard  for  this  Padre  O'Toule, 
who  once  had  saved  his  boys  from  serious  trouble, 
who  had  sought  to  interfere  on  his  own  account, 
and  whose  very  failure  had  evinced  the  strong 
feelings  which  had  animated  him  in  such  interfer- 


THE   CARNIVAL   WEEK.  235 

cnce,  and  the  deep  disappointment  which  ho  had 
felt  at  finding  himself  unable  to  help  tliem. 

Padre  O'Toule  remained  until  a  late  hour,  and  at 
length  reluctantly  departed,  leaving  a  stronger 
regard  for  him  than  ever  in  the  minds  of  the  boys, 
and  a  very  friendly  feeling  indeed  in  the  mind  of 
Uncle  Moses. 

Ludlow  had  spoken  to  them  of  the  Roman  sea- 
son, of  the  Carnival,  and  the  illumination  of  St. 
Peter's.  Of  these  things  they  had  heard,  but  had 
not  laid  any  stress  on  them,  nor  had  they  calcu- 
lated on  being  present  at  them  until  Ludlow  had 
spoken  to  them  in  such  strong  language.  But  on 
the  following  day  they  began  to  see  the  mean- 
ing of  his  words,  and  to  understand  something  of 
his  enthusiasm.  They  began  to  find  scenes  and 
sights  far  different  from  anytliing  that  they  had 
yet  encountered.  The  Carnival  week  had  now 
begun,  and  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  city,  from  tlie 
highest  to  the  lowest,  yielded  to  the  influence  of 
this  festive  time.  This  week  is  the  one  that  im- 
mediately precedes  Lent.  As  the  Lenten  season 
approaches  —  the  time  of  sadness  and  gloom  —  the 
Roman  wishes  to  take  a  fitting  farewell  of  worldly 
pIcMsures ;  and  so  he  crowds  into  that  last  week 
precc  iiiig  Lent  all  that  he  can  of  noisy  sport,  of 
extravagant  play,  of  uproarious  nonsense,  of  reck- 
less and  desperate  bufibonery.  For  this  he  has 
preserved  his  ancient  Saturnalia,  and  cherished  it, 
and  brought  it  down  through  the  middle  ages  to 


236  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

modern  times,  associating  it  with  the  observance 
of  the  Cliristian  year,  and  christening  it  under  the 
name  of  the  Carnival  —  a  word  compounded  of 
came  and  vale,  and  meaning  a  farewell  to  flesh,  or 
meat  diet. 

For  this  last  week  all  Rome  gives  itself  up  thus 
to  wild  sport.  ^Ml  this  week  the  fun,  the  merri- 
ment, and  the  absurdity  go  on  increasing  in  ex- 
travagance till  the  last  day  comes,  when  it  all 
reaches  a  climax.  The  Corso,  the  chief  street  in 
Rome,  is  the  place  where  all  gather  to  enjoy  the 
last  of  mirth  and  laughter.  Here  the  wildest 
satire  prevails,  and  the  most  unlimited  license  of 
action,  of  dress,  and  of  speech.  Romans  generally 
are  quiet  and  grave  in  their  demeanor,  but  during 
the  Carnival  they  all  become  transformed  to  the 
noisiest,  funniest,  drollest,  queerest,  rowdiest,  ab- 
surdest,  foolishest ;  into  the  most  fantastic,  nonsen- 
sical, crazy,  maudlin,  frantic,  roaring,  howling, 
frenzied,  extravagant,  unreasonable,  hairbrained, 
rollicking  collection  of  human  beings  that  ever 
gathered  together,  at  least  in  modern  times,  outside 
the  walls  of  a  lunatic  asylum. 

Fancy,  then,  the  feelings  of  the  boys  as  they 
found  themselves  day  after  day  among  such  a  peo- 
ple and  amid  such  scenes.  The  Corso  was  the 
centre  of  attraction.  In  the  mornings  quiet  usually 
prevailed ;  but  in  the  afternoon  the  great  street 
became  filled  with  crowds  of  people  —  men,  women, 
children,  boys,  girls,  priests,  beggars,  soldiers,  trav- 


THE  CARNIVAL   WEEK.  237 

ellers,  monks,  nuns,  and  representatives  of  all  that 
varied  class  of  people  who  at  this  season  flock  to 
Rome  above  all  other  places.  Here,  for  this  sea- 
son at  least,  speech  is  perfectly  free  —  free,  indeed, 
to  an  extent  unknown  anywhere  else.  The  crowds, 
as  they  move  to  and  fro,  and  backward  and  for- 
ward, exchange  a  never-ending  fire  of  sharp  re- 
marks and  repartees.  No  matter  what  may  be 
said,  everything  is  taken  in  good  part,  and  an- 
swered good-naturedly.  It  is  forbidden  to  be 
angry  or  to  take  offr^nce  at  anything  during  the 
Carnival.  Every  day  is  dedicated  to  fun,  and 
mirth,  and  wit,  and  joy.  Grave  people,  serious 
people,  sober  people,  sad  people,  all  people  with 
long  faces  must  keep  away.  What  is  most  aston- 
ishing is  this  —  that  in  all  this  reign  of  fun,  and 
sport,  and  nonsense,  where  the  lower  orders  all 
come  crowding  in,  hobnobbing  nobles  of  every 
degree,  there  is  none  of  that  drunkenness  which 
is  so  sure  to  prevail  at  any  general  merry-making 
attempted  among  people  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race 
and  speech.  It  is  an  unfortunate  fact  that  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  or  English-speaking  race,  if  it  be  the 
greatest  on  earth,  is  also  the  most  prone  to  drunk- 
enness ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Italians, 
whatever  their  faults  may  be,  are  certainly  a  very 
abstemious  and  temperate  people.  Whether  this 
is  owing  to  the  influence  of  climate,  or  to  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  race,  the  fact  remains  that  one 
may  see   many  of  these  wild,  lawless,  and  unli- 


238  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

censed  Roman  Carnivals,  and  yet  never  encounter 
a  single  drunken  man.  Such  a  season  in  England 
or  America  would  be  associated  with  unlimited 
drunkenness,  and  all  the  accompaniments  of  drunk- 
enness. Here  the  Italian,  even  in  the  midst  of  his 
excitement,  can  restrain  himself.  And  surely  it  is 
a  sad  thing  that  the  English-speaking  race,  which 
has  created  the  mightiest  literature  of  modern 
times,  and  the  noblest  law,  and  the  freest  govern- 
ment, which  has  spread  itself  all  over  the  world, 
and  has  carried  the  Book  of  God  with  it  wherever 
it  has  gone ;  which  also  promises  to  make  its  grand 
language  universal  among  men  of  the  future  ;  — 
sad  it  is,  and  most  miserable,  that  this  great,  this 
chosen  race,  should  thus  be  distinguished  beyond 
all  others  for  that  one  vice  which  makes  man  most 
like  the  brutes.  '  ■     ^  ' 

The  afternoons  of  this  week  generally  pass  away 
in  this  manner  amid  sport  and  extravagance,  and 
at  length  at  six  o'clock  there  is  a  sudden  change. 
Just  before  that  time  at  one  end  of  the  long  Corso, 
in  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  which  is  a  circular  place 
of  great  extent  and  beauty,  a  number  of  horses  are 
gathered.  They  are  all  decorated  with  ribbons, 
and  over  their  flanks,  and  along  their  backs,  there 
are  fixed  sharp  spurs,  in  such  a  way  that  when 
they  run  these  shall  strike  into  their  flesh  and 
pierce  the  skin,  and  goad  them  on.  In  front  of 
these  is  a  company  of  Papal  Dragoon  Guards, 
mounted  on  stout  war  horses,  and  arrayed  in  shin- 


THE   CARNIVAL  WEEK.  239 

ing  steel  cuirasses,  and  polished  steel  helmets, 
with  horsetail  plumes.  Just  before  six  o'clock  this 
company  of  dra^^oons  'charge  down  through  tlio 
crowded  streets  at  a  swift  gallop.  To  a  stiiuigor 
this  seems  like  a  fearful  and  perilous  thing- —  full 
of  danger  to  that  dense  throng  of  idle,  careless, 
laugliing  people,  —  men,  women,  and  children, — 
who,  for  two  miles,  fill  the  long  street.  But  the 
danger  is  only  apparent.  The  people  know  what 
is  coming,  and  are  prepared  for  it.  They  see  from 
afar  the  shining  helmets  and  the  waving  plumes, 
and  though  many  of  them  recklessly  linger  in  the 
middle  of  the  street  until  the  very  last  moment, 
yet,  as  the  dragoons  come  thundering  along,  the 
crowd  all  moves  to  one  side  or  the  other,  and  thus 
a  wide  open  space  is  left  in  the  midst.  Then,  after 
the  dragoons  have  charged,  a  gun  is  suddenly 
fired.  It  is  the  signal  for  the  horses  to  start.  The 
barricades  at  the  Piazza  del  Popolo  are  let  fall,  and 
at  once,  with  a  bound,  a  snort,  and  a  frantic  plunge, 
the  whole  crowd  of  half-wild  and  riderless  horses, 
excited  to  madness  by  the  sting  of  their  goads  and 
the  roar  of  the  multitude,  rush  straight  down  the 
Corso,  through  the  pathway  opened  up  by  the  dra- 
goons. 

On  they  fly  I  And  as  they  go  there  rises  from 
the  people  a  loud  cry,  —  a  yell  of  acclamation,  — 
so  wild,  so  long,  and  so  sustained,  that  there  is 
nothing  which  can  be  heard  anywhere  else  that  is 
at  all  like  it.     Beginning  with  the  crowd  at  the 


2  to  TOE   SEVEN   niLLS. 

head  of  the  hw^  street,  it  bursts  forth,  and  goes 
on  as  the  horses  pass  by,  to  be  caught  up  by  oth- 
ers, and  transferred  to  others  yet  again,  and  so  to 
be  borne  far  along  through  two  miles  of  roaring 
multitudes  —  behind  the  rushing  horses,  before 
them,  and  on  each  side  of  them,  until  at  last  the 
accumulated  thunder  of  the  many  mingled  voices 
dies  away  in  distant  reverberations  where  rises  far 
away  the  lofty  tower  of  the  Capitolian  Mount. 
And  with  this  last  scene  each  day  ends.      ,,,,,, 


'■■-  '  •  '.'1  '    . 'i'^n, .-;.;„,-:/;  ;>f-' 


\' :  >  t ; ;  ;      '■'*■■«,      ;    ■ ..  -  .         . 
-Uf   ■!.!  ;.--         .        ..     ■       .     ,. 

^^  '     *  ''.,.'  -         -^      ■    ,      •  ;    " 

:'t'.'.-  11','  •'■;'.'■,,•  ■■   .    '  '■         i  :      ■       -1  i 


-  X-*^r- — 


■/';:"'*'.(''V'f-i^ 


W0NDEB3  OF  THE  CARNIVAL.  241 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Wonders  of  the  Carnival.  —  The  noisy ^  uproarious^ 
nonsensical^  multitudinous  Crowd. — A  whole  City  of 
Boys,  —  The  Battle  of  the  Confette.  —  Street  Fight.  —  All 
the  Corso  in  Arms.  —  The  Smoke  of  the  Battle.  —  Uncle 
Moses  retires  from  the  scene  of  Conflict.  —  The  modern 
Saturnalia. 

F  all  the  days  of  the  Carnival  seaaon,  the 
last  is  by  far  the  greatest.  This  forms  the 
climax  when  all  the  fun,  and  mirth,  and 
burlesque,  and  extravagance,  and  satire,  and  buf- 
foonery ascend  to  their  fullest  height. 

On  that  day,  as  the  afternoon  begins  the  festivi- 
ties commence.  The  Corso  presents  a  striking 
scene.  From  one  end  to  the  other  it  is  all  ablaze 
with  gorgeous  colors.  From  every  window  is 
displayed  a  wonderful  variety  of  decorations,  flags 
of  all  nations,  bearing  every  possible  device ; 
streamers  of  all  colors,  of  every  possible  material. 
Every  story  in  every  house  has  its  balcony,  —  for 
this  is  the  Roman,  or  rather  the  Italian  fashion,  — 
and  now  all  along  these  are  spread  cloths  of  most 
brilliant  hue.  Ribbons  fly  off  and  float  in  the  air; 
gay  draperies  hang  in  festoons  intertwined  with 

16 


242  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

flowers  along  tlio  balconies,  or  from  window  to 
window,  or  acroas  tlio  street  from  liouse-top  to 
house-top.  All  around  are  rosettes,  flowers,  and 
other  ornjimcnts  interminp,led  with  devices  and 
mottoes  of  innunicrabio  kinds,  rangin«^  througli 
every  mood,  from  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to 
severe;  from  elevated  and  sincere  patriotism 
down  to  the  lowest  buffoonery  ;  from  the  lightest 
and  most  sparkling  wit  to  the  severest  and  most 
trenchant  satire.  Some  have  reference  to  the 
social  world  only  ;  others  are  sentimental ;  others 
again  go  further,  and  tri-colors  appear,  bearing 
mottoes  of  the  Radical  school ;  and  those  last 
generally  exhibit  no  restraint,  but  rush  boldly  into 
politics  and  religion. 

Gradually  the  street  fills,  but  from  tho  honses 
come  ladies  and  children  all  dressed  as  gayly  as 
possible,  and  crowd  the  balconies.  In  the  street 
below,  carriages  pass  filled  with  gentlemen.  On 
every  balcony  there  are  barrels,  and  baskets,  and 
bags,  filled  with  a  certain  material  called  confette. 
These  are  nothing  more  than  grains  of  some  sort 
coated  with  plaster,  which,  on  being  thrown  against 
any  object,  send  forth  a  fine,  suffocating  dust. 
With  this  confette  every  carriage  is  also  loaded 
down.  The  sideAvalks  and  the  shops  are  also 
crowded  with  dealers  in  this  material,  who  drive  a 
roaring  trade ;  for  this  confette  forms  an  all-impor- 
tant means  for  carrying  on  the  great  work  of  the 
Carnival. 


THE   CARNIVAL.  243 

Tims  tlio  biilconiofl  on  either  side  of  the  long 
Corso  are  filled  with  ladies,  and  up  and  down  pass 
contimiDUs  lines  of  carriages  filled  with  gentlemen, 
while  the  sidewalks  and  the  vacant  spaces  of  the 
middle  of  the  street  are  filled  with  an  enormous 
crowd  of  people,  which  seem  to  increase  in  num- 
ber continually. 
And   such  people  1 

All  are  in  masquerade  attire,  or  nearly  all, 
whether  in  carriages  or  on  foot.  People.  ¥qw  of 
them  are  altogether  like  the  inhabitants  of  a  city 
in  the  nineteenth  century.  It  is  a  mixture  of 
centuries  and  of  ages,  where  one  sees 

All  the  past. 

The  Pre-Adamite  ages. 

The  Pakeozoic  period. 

The  Italian  opera-house. 

Melodrama. 

The  circus. 

Romance. 

The  middle  ages. 

Nursery  love. 

The  Antediluvians. 

Phalansterians. 

Ancient  days. 

Classic  ages. 

The  lower  regions. 

The  world  of  waters. 

The  upper  air. 

The  fictions  of  novelists. 


244  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

The  dreams  of  poets. 

Old  Boguey. 

Mother  Goose. 

Sindbad  the  Sailor.  , .  , 

Aladdin.  ' 

-And  representations  of  every  element  in  litera- 
ture, or  every  character  in  fiction,  of  every  class 
of  conceptions  which  have  entered  into  the  imagi- 
nation of  man  with  regard  to  living  and  moving 
things. 

What  a  scene  was  this  for  the  boys  I  It  was 
utterly  unexpected.  They  had  heard  of  the  Car- 
nival before,  but  had  not  thought  much  about  it. 
They  had  not  had  any  idea  that  this  was  the  sea- 
son for  it.  Nor  did  they  suppose  that  the  nature 
of  the  festival  was  of  this  sort.  They  found  the 
gravest,  the  most  solemn,  and  the  most  venerable 
city  in  the  world  suddenly  transformed  into  a  sort 
of  Bedlam  ;  its  quiet,  decorous  inhabitants  suddenly 
changed  to  a  riotous  assemblage,  capable  of  more 
uproarious  nonsense  than  any  set  of  school-boys 
just  let  loose  from  school  into  the  play-ground. 

This  scene,  however,  gradually  dr  ned  upon 
the  boys,  and  it  was  only  piece  by  piece  that  they 
understood  it.  Seeing  it  thus,  they  threw  them- 
selves into  the  spirit  of  the  time  with  the  utmost 
ardor  and  enthusiasm.  What  was  the  meaning  of 
this,  of  that,  of  the  other?  What  was  to  take 
place  on  this  day  of  days?  Why  did  those  fair 
Italian  dames  throng  to  the  balconies  ?     Why  did 


THE  CARNIVAL.  245 

gentlemen  only  ride  in  the  carriages?  What  did 
thoy  all  carry  in  these  baskets,  bags,  and  barrels  ? 
And  what  was  that  dusty  stuff  which  was  being 
sold  in  such  enormous  quantities  ? 

Such  were  the  questions  that  suggested  them- 
selves to  the  boys  as  they  suggest  themselves  to 
every  visitor  at  Rome,  who  may,  like  these,  have 
stumbled  upon  the  Carnival.  All  these  things 
they  were  gradually  to  learn,  but  as  yet  no  one  of 
them  could  answer  these  questions.  So  they 
wandered  about  amid  crowds  that  grew  denser 
every  moment,  and  every  moment  more  bizarre, 
more  curious,  more  absurd,  more  outrageous,  more 
bewildering,  more  confounding,  more  astonishing, 
more  confused,  more  huddled  together,  more 
hustled  about,  more  mutually  aggressive,  more 
generally  uproarious,  more  picturesquoi,  more  bur- 
lesque, more  Romanesque,  more  grotesque,  more 
disorderly,  more  laughable,  more  tumultuous,  more 
many-sided,  more  manifold,  more  variegated,  more 
multitudinous,  and  more  utterly  incomprehensible. 

"  Boys,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  as  he  laboriously 
picked  himself  up,  after  stumbling  over  a  small 
boy  dressed  like  a  monkey,  who  had  got  before 
him  for  that  special  purpose,  —  " boys'-—  I  —  am 
—  dumbfounded  !     I  am,  railly  !  " 

And  very  good  reason  had  Uncle  Moses  for 
being  dumbfounded,  or  anything  else  he  pleased; 
and  so,  lor  that  matter,  had  all  the  rest,  only  they 
favored   different  feelings.     They  —  the    boys  — 


246  THE  SF^EN  HILLS. 

found  themselves  suddenly  in  the  midst  of  what 
seemed  a  population  of  boys,  or  children,  —  for 
here  grown  men  and  women  had  evidently  gone 
back  to  childhood,  and  were  playing  as  only  chil- 
dren can.  Yet,  for  all  this,  it  was  certainly  bewil- 
dering. For,  if  they  merely  stood  still,  as  they  did, 
on  the  steps  of  the  Cafd  Nuovo,  and  looked  on  the 
vast  masquerade,  —  on  the  rapidly  moving  throng, 
with  its  fantastic  characters  and  amazing  costumes, 
—  what  was  it  that  met  their  eyes  ?  Why,  nearly 
everything  that  could  make  those  eyes  open  wide 
in  wonder. 
Such  as,  — 

The  Great  Mogul  in  his  robes. 

Tamehameha. 

Ten  men  on  hobby  horses. 
:;  Tae  Ping  Wang.  *• 

Nigger  minstrels  with  bones. 
'    -       A  knight  in  armor. 

-      Seven  devils  with  horns  and  tails.  *" 

Two  crocodiles  walking  erect. 

A  rhinoceros  do. 

A  hippopctamus  do.  : 

Twenty-one  men  with  big  noses.        '      ^   ' 

Aunt  Sally.  - 

'A  colossal  bat  with  folded  wings.         ' 

Six  men  with  vultures'  heads.  '•  '" 

Seven  men  with  donkeys'  heads.     ^'-^—^r:rf~r:. 

Two  mermen  with  scaly  tails.  ^^ 

A  figure  with  a  skeleton  head. 


THE  CARNIVAL. 


247 


A  dozen  in  shrouds  with  eye-holes. 
Three  Zouaves. 
Papal  Guards. 
Swiss  Halberdiers. 
Cardinals  with  cocked  hats,      v  > 
Giants  on  stilts.  ,  v       .,'<'?= 

Aboulpharagis.       -  .^V        ;.:;)"- 
Pterodactyls.  :    */'        s-    i;     - 

!  Chimpanzees.  s-       .,:    • 

Mandarins.  ^  :   ,,,;;•        - 

'.-v;.;,,;;'  Dervises.      -•;,■>■-.■,■.:., .ri- ^' >■'' , 
^         Paclias  with  many  tails.        ■   > . 

;     i'     Gorillas  without  any. 

'■  .>■' 

';    >      Garibaldini.  '  !    ; 

Boys  banging  inflated  bladders. 
Knights  of  Malta.       •\    '  v 
.      Crusaders.     -  ii 

^   V  ;     FratelH  di  Misericordia. 

V     Trasteverini.  ,  .     ;     ,/ 

^;, ;._,:;■■:>';'  Quakers.  ■■;''■■,.>■;..-■>  -■v^:■■-^ 

':,-,;..  ■/   Bandits.  ;;;.;'.■,.,:,.,;.,,;,;■;.,;        .:,•-•.  -■,;■ 

/  Jm-  ;y     Pirates.     '      'r,r^■:■^-;^ ,., 

Vampires. 

A  giraffe  formed  by  two  men. 
A  sea-serpent  formed  by  forty  men. 
And  hundreds,  yea,  thousands  of  other  figures, 
equally    absurd,    equally    fantastic,   and    equally 
bewildering. 

On  a  sudden  a  change  came  over  the  scene. 
The  crowd  which  thus  far  had  moved  about  in 


248  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

comparative  ease,  and  seemed  to  be  engaged  in 
nothing  but  showing  themselves  and  staring  at 
others,  now  became  agitated  to  the  wildest  tumult. 
Thousands  rushed  to  and  fro,  and  in  an  instant 
the  atmosphere  became  filled  with  a  white  shower. 
It  was  as  though  some  snow-storm  had  suddenly 
burst  forth,  or  rather  some  hail-storm,  for  the  patter 
of  the  falling  atoms  was  louder  than  the  light  fall 
of  snow,  and  the  blow  was  harder.  On  all  sides,  up, 
down,  wherever  the  eye  turned  to  look,  fell  the 
white  sliower.  Now  the  boys  learned  the  use  of 
the  confette,  and  the  need  of  the  bags,  baskets, 
and  barrels.  Now  they  understood  why  the  ladies 
discreetly  remained  in  the  balconies,  leaving  the 
gentlemen  to  run  the  gantlet  in  the  street.  It 
was  a  universal  fight,  which  consisted  in  dashing 
handfuls,  or  scoopfuls,  or  basketfuls  of  confette 
in  one  another's  faces.  The  war  began.  The 
crowd  swayed  and  tossed  in  all  directions.  Fig- 
ures darted  swiftly  to  and  fro.  Shouts,  screams, 
laughter,  yells,  hoots,  whistles,  cat-calls ;  all  the 
sounds  of  the  barnyard,  all  the  noises  of  the  wild 
forest,  arose,  mingling  together  in  one  deafening 
clamor,  ill  in  the  street  took  part  in  the  univer- 
sal strife  and  riot.  The  rhinoceros  engaged  with 
the  Great  Mogul ;  the  Quaker  with  the  Giant  on 
stilts ;  the  Chimpanzees  with  the  three  Zouaves ; 
the  crocodiles  with  the  mandarins ;  and  an  immense 
crowd  made  a  terrible  and  united  attack  with 
confette  upon  the  sea-serpent.     The  whole  scene 


THE  CARNIVAL.  249 

shifted  and  changed  like  the  disordered  figures  of 
some  fever  dream,  and  around  and  amid  it  all 
fell  the  white  showers  of  choking  plaster  dust. 

The  attitude  of  tl.  e  boys  at  first  was  simply  that  of 
astonished  spectators.  They  stood,  and  stared,  and 
wondered.  They  found  it  quite  incomprehensible, 
and  could  not  conceive  the  meaning  of  it  at  all,  or 
whether  there  might  be  any  meaning  to  it  what- 
ever. But  they  were  not  lon^;;  allowed  to  main- 
tain the  peaceful  attitude  of  ii.terested  spectators. 
For  before  they  had  looked  on  two  minutes,  before 
they  had  even  begun  to  satisfy  their  curiosity,  tlio 
scene  was  brought  home  to  themselves  most  sud- 
denly, most  vigorously,  and'  most  irresistibly.  As 
they  stared,  a  carriage  passed  by,  and  from  that 
carriage,  wliich  was  filled  with  lads  of  about  their 
own  age,  there  came  a  dozen  discharges  of  the 
confette,  from  scoops  .,.:d  dippers,  full  into  their 
faces,  penetrating  their  eyes,  mouths,  and  nostrils. 
At  the  same  instant  a  whole  barrel  full  was  poured 
down  upon  them  from  the  balcony  immediately 
above.  Gasping,  choking,  rubbing  their  eyes, 
they  stood  for  a  few  moments  helpless,  trying  to 
regain  their  breath. 

A  wild  laugh  burst  from  the  lads  in  the  carriage. 

"  Hurrah  !  "  cried  one  of  the  lads.  "  Give  it  to 
them ! " 

And  the  carriage  passed  on. 

"  So  that's  it,"  said  Bob,  as  soon  as  he  could 
speak  ;  "  so  that's  what  this  white  stuff  is  for  —  is 


250  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

it?  Well,  here  goes.  I'll  try  if  I  can't  give  as 
^ood  as  I  get.  Boys,  don't  you  remember  the  old 
Baying,  '  When  you're  in  Rome, do  as  Rome  does'? 
Come  along.  Let's  do  as  Rome  does.  Let's  got 
hold  of  a  supply  of  ammunition,  and  charge  into  the 
thickest  of  the  battle."  •       '       .|.  r- 

Away  rushed  Bob  to  the  nearest  side  street, 
and  after  him  hurried  all  the  others.  It  was  no 
easy  matter  getting  through  the  crowd.  Their 
haste  also  served  to  attract  attention,  and  make 
them  the  targets  for  every  one  to  fire  at.  They 
had  to  run  a-muck  for  it;  but  at  last,  half  blind 
and  half  choked,  they  reached  a  corner,  and  turned 
into  a  cross  street.  Here  all  was  quiet,  for  the 
wliole  of  Rome  was  in  the  Corso,  and  in  the  Corso 
only. 

Here  they  found  plenty  of  the  confette  for  sale. 
With  this  they  filled  all  their  pockets.  Bob  and 
Frank  tore  out  their  pockets,  and  filled  all  the  skirts 
of  their  coats.  The  others  were  more  moderate. 
After  this  thev  all  rushed  back  into  the  scene  of 
conflict.  But  here  Uncle  Moses  faltered  and  held 
back.  He  was  in  a  quiet  place,  close  by  the 
Column  of  Antonine,  and  it  seem'>d  to  him  far 
pleasanter  than  the  stormy  Corso.  Before  him 
rolled  the  tumult  of  the  busy  street,  the  air  all 
filled  with  showers  of  white  dust ;  behind  him  all  was 
peace.  He  could  not  follow  the  boys  into  that 
furious  Babel  of  strife.  He  chose  rather  to  sta  id 
where  he  was  and  philosophize. 


THE   CARNIVAL.  251 

"  I've  got  into  trouble  enough,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, thoughtfully,  "  by  a  pushin  of  myself  for'ard 
whar  I  hadn't  any  business  to  go ;  and  as  to  this 
here  Carnival,  why  should  I  go  and  act  like  a  born 
fool?  It's  all  very  well  to  say, '  When  you're  in 
Rome,  do  as  the  Romans  do,'  Lut  I  ain't  goin  to 
make  a  fool  of  myself  jest  because  the  Romans 
take  it  into  their  heads  to  act  an  carry  on  like  born 
fools ;  an  what's  more,  I  won't  dew  it ;  an  that 
thar's  what  I  call  a  pooty  sensible  voo  of  this 
matter."  ■  •       ' 

But  such  grave  thoughts  and  wise  reflections  as 
those  were,  of  course,  lost  upon  the  boys,  who,  wild 
with  excitement,  had  already  plunged  into  the 
thick  of  the  crowd.  A  carriage  was  passing ;  it 
was  the  same  carriage  which  had  first  attacked 
them.  The  lads  occupying  it  were  showering  out 
confette  most  vigorously  on  all  sides,  and  were 
themselves  assailed  most  vigorously  in  return. 
Here  Bob  headed  a  charge,  followed  by  the  others, 
and  the  four  carried  on  a  vigorous  fight  for  some 
time,  in  spite  of  the  disadvantage  under  which  they 
labored  of  fighting  on  foot,  while  the  enemy  was 
so  high  above  them.  Their  other  more  accessible 
enemies  appeared,  and  they  gave  up  the  carriage 
to  turn  their  attention  elsewhere. 

How  the  Corso  roared  !  How  the  vast  crowd 
writhed,  and  swayed,  and  tumbled,  and  tossed  I 
Every  balcony  showered  down  its  stores  of  con- 
fette.    Every  carriage  threw  its  broadsides  to  the 


252  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

right  and  to  the  left.  But  the  people  in  the  street 
paid  them  hack  witli  interest,  and  threw  into  the 
carriages  overpowering  discharges  from  all  sides. 
Every  place  was  white  with  dust.  On  all  sides 
might  be  seen  the  wounded  retreating  from  tlie 
battle,  choking  men,  blinded  men  flying  to  the 
refuge  of  tlie  side  streets,  so  as  to  get  breath 
and  eyesight,  and  return  again.  In  the  carriages 
the  occupants  were  also  covered  with  the  white 
dust;  clothes,  faces,  hair,  beard,  all  were  cov- 
ered ;  in  t!::  balconies  the  Italian  ladies,  roused 
up  to  the  full  height  of  this  immense  excitement, 
dashed  about  like  Bacchantes,  showering  down 
their  hail-storms  on  the  carriages  and  foot  pas- 
sengers beneath ;  while  all  around,  above,  below, 
on  every  side,  arose  a  confused  din  of  laughter, 
shouts,  screams,  outcries ;  a  wild  and  frenzied 
uproar  ;  yet  an  uproar  in  which  all  these  Bedlamites 
were  perfectly  good-natured,  and  made  it  a  point 
of  honor  to  take  offence  at  nothing. 


THE   COMBAT  DEEPENS.  253 


CHAPTER    XX. 

The  Combat  deepens.  Otiy  ye  Brave! — Boh  attacks  a 
French  Officer.  —  The  French  Officer  retorts.  —  Frank  to 
the  Rescue.  —  Tremendous  single  Combat.  —  A  Ring 
formed.  —  An  Homeric  Fight. —  The  sympathizing  Spec- 
tators. —  The  Soldier  draws  his  Sword.  —  Conclusion  of 
the  Fight.      , 

^HAT  a  place  was  this  for  boys !  All 
were  boys  together  here  —  all  this  great, 
roaring,  absurd,  nonsensical  crowd  of 
practical  jokers.  The  sport  was  boyish,  the  non- 
sense was  boyish.  The  supreme  and  presiding 
spirit  was  that  of  boyish  Fun. 

And  didn't  our  boys  throw  themselves  into  the 
spirit  of  this  occasion  ? 

Methinks  they  did. 

For  you  see,  wherever  there  was  any  particular 
scrimmage,  it  always  happened  that  one  of  them, 
or  all  of  them,  were  in  the  very  thick  of  it. 

Again  and  again  they  exhausted  their  supplies 
of  ammunition.  In  fact  they  needed  a  carriage, 
and  several  barrels  of  confette  ready  to  hand,  to 
supply  their  wants  and  the  demands  of  the  occa- 
sion.    Over  and  over  again  they  had  to  fly  to  the 


254  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

side  streets  in  order  to  procure  a  fresh  supply  of 
ammunition.  In  spite  of  this,  they  never  lost  their 
ardor ;  on  the  contrary,  with  every  moment  that 
ardor  increased.  This,  for  them,  was  a  day  un- 
equalled, unparalleled,  never  to  be  forgotten,  never 
to  be  known  again  in  all  their  lives.  It  was  a  day 
of  days,  every  moment  of  which  must  be  occupied 
in  the  great  business  that  engrossed  the  thoughts 
and  the  actions  of  all. 

Slash  !  went  the  pockets  of  Clive.  David,  also, 
carried  away  by  this  unusual  excitement,  tore  hia 
out.  Like  Frank  and  Bob,  they  poured  about  a 
bushel  of  confette  into  the  place  where  their  pock- 
ets once  were  ;  so  that  the  skirts  of  their  coats 
stood  out  with  portentous  fulness,  and  resembled 
more  than  anything  the  full  crinolines  that  were 
once  in  fashion.  Then  away  they  hurried  back 
again  to  the  Corso,  and  into  the  thickest  of  the 
strife. 

To  attempt  to  run,  however,  with  the  inside  of 
one's  coat  loaded  down  with  a  bushel  or  so  of 
grains  like  wheat,  is  not  a  very  feasible  under- 
taking, and  therefore  the  pace  which  they  were 
able  to  make  was  no  very  rapid  one.  There  was 
also  the  constant  danger  that  the  lining  of  their 
coats  might  give  way  utterly  under  a  test  to  which 
they  were  never  intended  to  be  subjected,  and 
so  their  desire  to  make  haste  was  tempered  by  a 
natural  caution  about  the  strength  of  their  coats. 
Still  they  did  make   haste,  and   thus  hurried,  as 


THE   FRENCH   OFFICER.  255 

well  as  they  could,  back  again  to  the  ardor  of  the 
strife.  ,*   -' 

Bob  was  ahead. 

•  As  ho  hurried  along,  looking  about  for  a  fitting 
adversary,  a  foeman  wortliy  of  his  steel,  he  saw 
a  French  officer  standing  on  the  sidewalk.  This 
French  officer  had  on  his  face  a  surly  and  super- 
cilious expression.  He  had,  probably,  strolled  into 
the  Corso  a  short  time  before,  and  was  now  regard- 
ing the  scene  before  him  with  the  air  of  a  superior 
being,  as  which  he  evidently  at  this  moment  re- 
garded himself. 

And  why  so  very  superior  ?  thought  Bob  to  him- 

-  self  Must  this  man  consider  himself  a  favored 
being,  and  superior  to  the  license  of  the  Carnival  ? 
With  this  thought  he  reached  the  French  officer, 
and  as  he  did  so,  he  suddenly  dashed  two  handfuls 
of  confette  full  in  his  face. 

At  any  other  time,  in  any  other  place,  such  an 
act  on  Bob's  part  would  surely  deserve  the  sever- 
est condemnation  and  punishment.  Nor  would 
Bob  himself  have  been  capable  of  such  an  act 
under  any  other  circumstances.  But  this,  be  it 
remembered,  was  the  Carnival  at  Rome.  This  was 
the  very  business  which  people  came  to  the  Corso 

"  to  carry  out.  Bob  himself  had  received  a  hundred 
such  assaults,  and  had  dealt  them  out  to  others. 
To  do  this  to  the  French  officer  was,  therefore, 
in  his  eyes,  highly  proper,  natural,  laudable,  and 
praiseworthy,  the  very  fulfilment,  in  fact,  of  tlie 
idea  of  the  Carnival. 


2oG  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

Tho  French  officer  stagge^'ed  back  with  a  curso. 
lie  (lashed  the  dust  from  his  face,  and  then  catch- 
ing sight  of  his  yoitthful  assailant  through  his  half 
bUnded  eyes,  ho  rushed  at  him,  and,  with  a  howl 
of  rage  and  a  fierce  execration,  he  struck  with  his 
clinched  fiat  full  tht  Bob's  face. 

And  Bob  went  down  in  an  instant,  falling  heavily 
on  the  pavement,  on  his  back,  in  the  midst  of  tho 
crowd. 

The  boys  had  been  close  behind,  and  had  seen  it 
all.  They  had  not  been  prepared  for  anything  like 
this;  for  perfect  good  temper  had  been  the  law  of  the 
Carnival  thus  far,  and  everything  was  taken  in  good 
part.  As  they  saw  the  blow  fall,  they  stood  for  a 
moment  amazed,  and  stared  in  silence.  Bob  fell 
heavily,  and  David,  with  a  cry  of  rage  and  pity, 
stooped  to  pick  him  up. 

•  The  French  officer,  having  struck  Bob  down, 
rushed  towards  his  prostrate  form,  just  as  David 
was  trying  to  raise  him,  with  a  malignity  on  his 
face  which  showed  that  he  was  bent  on  further 
mischief  But  as  he  advanced,  Frank  sprang  for- 
ward, and  grasping  the  French  officer  by  the 
collar,  hurled  him  back.  , 

"  Coward  and  scoundrel ! "  cried  Frank,  utterly 
beside  himself  with  rage ;  "  would  you  strike  him 
when  he's  down  ?  " 

At  this  the  French  officer  turned  upon  Frank, 
not  understanding  what  he  said,  but  seeing  the 
contempt  of  his  face  and  the  scorn  of  his  gesture. 


FRANK  TO  THE  RESCUE.  257 

Mad  with  rage,  he  rushed  blindly  at  Frank,  and 
aimed  a  blow  at  him. 

But  he  had  altogether  mistaken  his  antagonist. 
For  the  Frenchman  was  not  at  all  acquainted  with 
the  scientific  US':  of  those  fists  of  his  with  which  he 
made  so  free ;  but  Frank,  on  the  contrary,  happened 
to  be  very  familiar  indeed  with  the  nj>le  art 
of  self-defence.  A  somewhat  stormy  boyhood,  a 
school  in  which  he  had  been  compelled  to  fight  his 
wfiy,  and  a  naturally  pugnacious  disposition,  had 
p  I  conspired  to  train  him  in  this  art.  Added  to 
this,  his  frame  was  muscular  and  sinewy ;  in  point 
of  actual  strength,  he  was  not  much  inferior  to  the 
Frenchman,  while  in  science  he  was  much  beyond 
him,  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  there  was  no  compari- 
son ;  and  so  it  was,  that  when  the  Frenchman,  in  his 
rage  and  blind  fury,  ruL^ied  at  Frank,  striking  madly 
at  his  face,  he  found  hi  arm  quietly  pushed  aside, 
while  a  tremendous  blow  descended  upon  his  own 
face.  It  arr-^sted  him,  drove  him  back  like  a  bat- 
tering-ram, and  sent  him  headlong  to  the  ground. 

Before  this  Bob  was  on  his  feet  again. 

"Let  me  finish  him,"  he  cried.  "He  struck 
me  first." 

'Stand  back,  Bob,"  cried  Frank.  "It's  my 
quarrel  now.     Stand  back.     Fair  play." 

"Yes,  yes,  Bob,"  cried  David  and  Clive,  who 
very  much  preferred  to  see  Frank  opposed  to  the 
Frenchman.  "  Stand  back.  Fair  play.  It's  Frank's 
fight  now." 

17 


238  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

So  ^Bob  was  compelled  to  stand  back,  tliouji^h 
very  reluctantly.  David  and  Clive  also  stood  on 
each  side  of  the  fallen  Frenchman. 

By  this  time  there  was  a  pause  in  the  surround- 
ing crowd.  Some  bystanders,  wlio  had  seen  it  all, 
explained  it  to  the  others.  A  Babel  of  commotion 
arose. 

They  were  Inglese  —  these  boys.  This  French 
officer  had  become  enraged  because  one  of  the  boys 
had  thrown  a  little  confette  at  him,  and  he  had  at- 
tacked the  boy.  So  the  other  boy  had  attacked  the 
French  officer,  and  knocked  him  down.  Bravo  ! 
Bravissimo !  Ingelis  box  I  Hold  !  Bravo !  Bra- 
vissimo  I  An  Ingelis  fight !  The  Frenchman  is  a 
fool  and  a  coward.  On  the  Corso  to-day  no  one 
must  be  angry.  It  is  forbidden.  When  one  grows 
angry,  one  should  go  away.  To  get  angry  at  tlie 
confette  is  an  insult  to  Borne.  The  Frenchman  is 
a  fool.  He  is  arrogant,  and  should  be  punished. 
So  Bravo  !  Inglese  boys  !  Bravo  !  Bravo  i  Bravo  ! 
B-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ravo  ! 

The  sympathies  of  the  crowd  were  thus  all  on 
the  side  of  the  boys.  They  called  them'Engli?];, 
for  the  reason  that  they  could  not  distinguisli 
English  from  Americans,  and  named  them  after  the 
language  which  is  common  to  both.  Unity  of  lan- 
guage makes  the  people  of  both  countries  the  same 
in  their  eyes.  They  sympathized  with  them  be- 
cause they  were  clearly  in  the  right  in  tliis  quarrel, 
and  because  the  foolish  Frenchman  liad  violated 


A    RING   FORMED.  259 

the  law  of  good  humor  and  fun  which  should  be 
observed  at  the  Carnival.  They  sympathized  with 
them  also  because  Frank  was  a  boy,  and  the  French- 
man was  a  man.  But  —  and  here  was  the  deepest 
reason  —  they  sympathized  with  the  boys  because 
their  assailant  was  a  Frenchman.  As  the  other 
Italians  used  to  regard  Gerrrians,  so  the  Romans, 
at  this  time,  regarded  Frenchmen.  They  hated 
the  Frenchmen  more  intensely  than  any  other  men, 
for  at  that  time  French  soldiers  held  virtual  pos- 
session of  the  city.  French  soldiers  guarded  their 
walls.  French  soldiers  had  put  down  Garibaldi. 
French  soldiers  were  standing  in  the  way  of  their 
aspirations  after  the  unity  of  Italy.  French  sol- 
diers also  lorded  it  over  them,  and  took  no  pains  to 
conceal  that  they  deemed  themselves  the  masters 
of  Rome  and  of  the  Romans.  French  soldiers  freed 
Lombardy,  and  were  therefore  popular  in  other 
parts  of  Italy ;  but  French  soldiers  enslaved  Rome, 
and  held  it  at  this  time  in  subjection.  Conse- 
quently at  this  time,  French  soldiers  were  an 
abomination  in  the  eyes  of  the  Romans. 

And  so,  the  crowd  which  had  gathered  all  around, 
tilled  "/itli  these  feelings,  stood  still,  and  watched 
to  see  the  result.  David,  Clive,  and  Bob  stationed 
themselves  so  as  to  keep  back  the  crowd,  and  form 
a  space  sufficient  for  the  fight,  while  Frank  stood 
waiting  for  his  antagonist.  The  whole  thing  was 
done  very  quietly,  and  very  neatly.  It  was  the 
result  of  long  practice  at  school.     They  were  all, 


260  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

even  David,  well  up  in  the  noble  art,  and  in  all  its 
details.  On  the  present  occasion,  therefore,  they 
all  shone  with  uncommon  lustre. 

The  Frencli  officer  picked  himself  up,  and  for  a 
moment  scowled  at  Frank,  with  a  face  all  distorted 
by  malignant  passion.  He  saw  tlie  ring  around 
him,  and  the  sinister  Italian  faces  fixed  darkly  upon 
him.  He  saw  that  the  antagonist,  who  had  already 
handled  him  so  roughly,  was  a  bo}^ ;  but  then  he 
was  a  strong,  and  muscular,  and  resolute  boy, 
and,  worse  than  all,  he  knew  that,  which  to  every 
Frenchman  is  at  once  admired  and  abhorred,  as 
"  ze  Tnglis  box."  As  for  the  Italii;xns,  it  was  with 
unfeigned  anxiety  that  they  awaited  the  issue. 
For  Frank  was  a  boy,  while  the  Frenchman  was  a 
grown  and  bearded  man.  Yet  they  saw  that  Frank 
was  strong  for  his  years,  and  what  was  more,  that 
he  knew  the  use  of  his  fists.  As  for  David,  Clive, 
and  Bob,  they  hadn't  the  least  anxiety.  They  be- 
lieved most  fully  in  Frank.  They  knew  his  powers 
and  liis  prowess,  and  didn't  believe  in  this  French- 
man, or  any  other  living  Frenchman,  at  all.  For 
Americans  have  inherited  that  curious  conviction 
from  tlieir  English  forefathers,  that  one  English- 
speaking  man  is  worth  three  "frog-eating  French- 
men ;  "  and  this  conviction,  with  a  few  Yankee  ad- 
ditions, glowed  brightly  in  the  breasts  of  the  boys 
on  the  present  occasion. 

The  Frenchman  did  not  wait  long.  He  took  07ie 
look,  and  then  flew  like  a  madman  at  Frank,  hissing 


AN  HOMERIC   FIGHT.  261 

out  French  oaths  and  execrations.  Frank  very 
easily  and  very  dexterously  evaded  his  assault, 
and  in  return  dealt  him  a  tremendous  blow  side- 
wise  on  the  left  ear. 

A  wild  yell  arose  from  the  Italians.     It  was  a 
yell  of  triumph. 

The  Frenchman  fell,  but  instantly  sprang  up 
again,  and  rushing  upon  Frank,  caught  hold  of 
him;  but  Frank  was  ready  for  this  also.  Boxing 
or  wrestling,  it  w  .  all  the  same  to  him ;  and  if 
the  Frenchman  chose  to  come  to  close  quarters,  he 
was  prepared.  And  so,  watching  for  his  oppor- 
tunity, he  secured  the  under  hold,  and  had  his  an- 
tagonist at  his  mercy.  A  little  trick  of  his,  often 
before  used  successfully,  was  now  put  in  practice. 
He  drew  himself  suddenly  downward,  and  then, 
by  a  peculiar  twist  and  unexpected  jerk  of  his  left 
leg,  he  dashed  away  the  footing  of  his  enemy.  The 
Frenchman  reeled,  and  fell  heavily,  with  Frank 
above  him.  With  a  sudden  spring  Frank  then 
detached  himself,  and,  leaping  back,  stood  erect, 
strong  and  vigorous  as  a  gladiator,  waiting  for 
another  assault.  He  did  not  care  to  have  a  close 
fight,  rolling  over  the  ground.  He  preferred  to  act 
in  a  free  and  unembarrassed  manner. 

Another  wild  shout  of  triumph  and  delight  arose 
from  the  spectators.  David,  Clive,  and  Bob  said 
nothing.  They  felt  no  surprise,  for  this  was  just 
what  they  had  anticipated ;  and  besides,  they  all 
had  too  much  generosity,  and  too  great  a  sense  of 
fair  play,  to  exhibit  any  exultation. 


262  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

Tho  Frenchman  again  sprang  to  his  feet.  In 
boxing  and  in  wrestling  lie  had  shown  liimself 
utterly  delicient,  and  had  been,  therefore,  severely 
mauled  by  a  boy.  But  there  was  one  thing  in 
which  he  was  a  proficient. 

He  sprang  up,  with  his  face  cut  and  bruised,  his 
eyes  blood-shot,  and  his  expression  full  of  fury, 
and  seized  the  handle  of  his  sword.  Another  mo- 
ment and  ^^  would  have  been  drawn. 

"  Coward  !  "  yelled  t'^e  Italians,  and  a  wild  move- 
ment arose  among  them.  But  the  action  of  Frank 
put  a  stop  to  this.  With  his  vigilant  eyes  he 
had  seen  the  gesture  of  the  Frenchman,  and  had 
anticipated  it.  He  leaped  towards  him,  and  struck 
him  another  of  those  tremendous  "  blows  from  the 
shoulder,"  the  secret  of  which  he  had  learned  from 
long  practice.  The  next  instac.t  he  was  upon  him. 
He  would  not  strike  a  man  wh*en  he  was  down,  but 
the  Frenchman  had  shown  such  a  villanous  dis- 
regard of  all  the  laws  of  fair  play,  that  Frank 
determined  to  punish  him.  The  mode  of  punish- 
ment was  at  hand.  Around  the  prostrate  French- 
man he  twined  his  sinewy  legs,  pinioning  his  arras 
in  this  way ;  and  then,  thrusting  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  he  showered  the  confette  over  his  face, 
rubbing  it  over  and  over  again.  Many  a  time  had 
he  done  this  before,  not  in  anger  and  with  confette, 
but  in  sport  and  with  harmless  snow.  This  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  do  on  capturing  a  prisoner  in 
the  snow-ball  wars  of  school  days,  when  he  pro- 


CONCLUSION   OF   THE  FIGHT.  263 

ceeded  according  to  the  laws  of  snow-ball  war,  to 
"  duck  "  said  prisoner.  The  art  was  useful  to  him 
now. 

The  Frenchman  was  prostrate  beneath  him,  at 
his  mercy,  his  arras  pinioned,  his  eyes  blinded,  his 
mouth  and  nostrils  filled  with  dust.  From  the 
Italians  all  around  wild  cries  arose.  Laughter, 
shouts,  jeers,  sneers,  exultations,  —  all  these  burst 
forth.  This  they  thought  was  a  fitting  punishment 
for  one  who  had  dared  to  break  in  upon  the  sport 
of  the  Carnival,  and  in  return  for  tiie  joke  of  a 
harmless  boy  to  knock  him  down. 

Frank  at  length  desisted,  and  arose.  The  French- 
man started  up  perfectly  frantic ;  but  he  dared  not 
do  anything.  He  heard  shouts  from  the  crowd, 
warning  him  not  to  draw  his  swoid.  Such  a  warn- 
ing he  dared  not  neglect.  Besides,  he  was  almost 
blind.  -His  only  thought  was  to  get  the  dust  out 
of  his  eyes,  and  to  regain  his  breath.  Had  he  made 
another  attack  on  Frank  in  that  state,  he  would 
have  been  still  more  at  the  mercy  of  his  enemy. 
So  he  contented  himself  with  groping  his  way  to 
the  sidewalk,  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  muttering 
tlireats  of  vengeance.  As  for  Frank  and  the  boys, 
they  walked  away,  amid  shouts  of  applause. 

Now,  for  all  this  the  boys  were  clearly  not  to 
blame.  True,  Bob  had  been  the  aggressor,  and 
had  dusted  confette  in  the  Frenchman's  eyes ;  but 
then  he  had  done  the  same  thing  to  hundreds  of 
others,  and  hundreds  of  others  had  done  the  same 


264  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

thing  to  him.  Could  this  Frenchman  expect,  on 
Huch  a  day,  to  walk  down  the  Corso  with  impunity  ? 
Ho  had  knocked  Bob  down  for  what  was  really 
nothing.  He  began  the  quarrel.  He  was  even 
about  to  deal  another  blow  upon  Bob's  prostrate 
form  when  Frank  interfered.  On  the  Frenchman, 
then,  lay  the  blame,  and  on  him  had  descended 
that  punishment  which  he  had  deserved.  The 
boys  had  nothing  for  which  they  could  blame  them- 
selves, and  nothing  to  regret,  except  Bob,  who 
persisted  in  thinking  and  saying  that  he  ought  to 
have  been  allowed  to  fight  the  Frenchman. 

But  the  others  were  glad  that  the  fight  had  been 
maintained  by  Frank. 


A   FRESH  SUPPLY  OF  AMMUNITION.  2C5 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Out  of  Ammunition.  —  A  fresh  Supply. —  The  Boys  in- 
trench tJiemselves.  —  General  Assault  from  all  Sides.  — 
The  Assault  sustained  nobly.  —  A  perpendicular  Fire. 
—  A  tremendo7is  Surprise.  —  A  sicdden  Chancre.  —  TJie 
Dragoon  Cha?-ge.  —  The  Race-horses.  —  Darkness.  — 
Universal  Illutnination.  —  A  new  Struggle.  —  Senza 
Moccolo.  —  Senza  Moccolo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o  ! 

^^OON  in  the  excitement  that  followed  the 
1^^  great  fight  was  for  a  time  forgotten.  New 
^^  duties  demanded  their  attention.  In  that 
wild,  excited,  and  struggling  throng  even  the 
strongest  sensations  or  emotions  would  yield  to 
the  new  series  of  surprises  that  arose  every  mo- 
ment. Besides,  so  long  as  they  remained  in  the 
Corso  they  were  compelled  to  be  watchful  and 
vigilant,  ever  keeping  up  an  active  self-defence, 
and  carrying  on  constant  war:  not  so  serious,  in- 
deed, as  Frank's  late  fight  -vvitl.  '  o  French  officer, 
yet  a  war,  nevertheless,  and  one  ,00,  which,  though 
good-natured,  was  vigorous  ar^a  incessant.  And 
so  once  more  they  threw  themselves  into  the 
thickest  of  the  fight,  and  poured  out  volleys  and 
received  them  in  return.     Again  and  yet  again 


266  THE   SEVEN   HILL9, 

thoy  had  to  retreat  from  the  scene  of  conflict  to 
the  side  streets  in  order  to  replenish  their  ex- 
hiiusted  stock  of  ammunition,  and  then  back  they 
came  once  more  to  the  fray. 

Tiiey  had  torn  out  their  pockets,  and  had  trusted 
to  the  lining  of  their  coats.  But  tlie  test  to  which 
this  lining  was  thus  subjected  was  one  for  which  it 
had  never  been  designed,  and  therefore  it  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at  that  it  should  at  length  break 
down  under  the  severe  strain.  One  by  one  they 
became  conscious  —  Bob  first,  then  the  others  — 
that  there  was  a  waste  going  on  in  another  quar- 
ter ;  and  at  length,  when  they  came  to  fill  up  again, 
they  found  that  the  confette  ran  out  as  fast  as  it 
was  poured  in. 

But  the  little  army  was  not  to  be  daunted  or  dis- 
couraged by  the  failure  of  what  may  be  termed  the 
ordnance  department.  No  sooner  had  this  taken 
place  than  necessity,  the  mother  of  invention,  sug- 
gested a  most  eflective  substitute.  The  dealer 
from  whom  they  were  purchasing  the  confette 
kept  his  material  in  barrels.  One  of  these  the 
boys  bought,  and  rolled  it  towards  the  Corse. 
Bob  went  forth  to  reconnoitre,  and  discovered  a 
doorway  a  few  yards  round  the  corner,  which 
afforded  a  good  place  to  occupy.  ETere  they  rolled 
their  barrel,  through  a  tempest  of  assaults  from  the 
roaring,  laughing  crowd,  who  saw,  and  cheered, 
and  jeered  at  their  project.  However,  they  at 
length  reached  the  doorway  in  safety,  placed  their 


GENERAL  ASSAULT  FROM  ALL  SIDES.  "       267 

barrel  there,  burst  it  open,  and  tlien  began. 
Showers  of  confette  poured  forth.  From  that 
doorway  there  fell  an  incessant  stream  upon  all 
who  passed.  All  who  passed  returned  lire;  and 
so  it  was  that  for  a  time  the  tliickest  of  tlie  fight 
raged  around  that  doorway,  where  the  little  band 
had  planted  their  battery. 

There  was  a  novelty,  a  boldness,  and  an  origi- 
nahty  about  this  plan  which  delighted  tlie  Romans, 
and  drew  upon  the  boys  the  largest  possible  share 
of  attention.  But  in  the  Corso,  during  Carnival 
time,  attention  meant  something  more,  and  one 
could  nut  give  that  without  giving  confette  also. 
The  showers  that  poured  in  upon  that  doorway 
were  prodigious.  David  had  begged  them  at  first 
not  to  be  too  lavish  with  the  confette.  There  was 
no  reason,  however,  for  caution.  Although  their 
own  drafts  upon  the  barrel  were  large  enough  to 
exhaust  its  contents  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  yet 
there  poured  upon  them  such  incessant  torrents 
that  their  barrel  remained  constantly  well  sup- 
plied. 

The  heaviest  showers  came  from  some  of  the  oc- 
cupants of  the  house,  who  were  in  a  balcony  just 
above,  but  a  little  on  one  side.  They  had  seen  the 
whole  proceeding,  and  seemed,  either  out  of  fun, 
or  from  a  sense  of  ownership,  resolved  on  expel- 
ling the  intruders  from  their  premises.  Tliey 
themselves  were  out  of  reach,  nor  could  the  boys 
look  up  so  as  to  take  aim.    The  consequence  was, 


268  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

that  they  were  helpless  against  that  shower  from 
above. 

At  length  the  party  above,  finding  that  the  boys 
still  held  their  post  most  obstinately,  and  that  no 
efforts  of  theirs  thus  far  had  availed  to  dislodge 
them,  decided  upon  a  final  attempt  of  a  most  des- 
perate nature.  At  this  very  time  the  boys  were 
surrounded,  and  doing  battle  most  heroically.  A 
carriage  in  front  was  discharging  whole  basket- 
fuls  at  a  time,  while  a  dense  array  of  foot-passen- 
gers was  hurling  shots  at  them  right  and  left. 
This  was  the  moment  chosen  by  those  in  the  bal- 
cony for  what  they  intended  to  be  a  final  and  a 
crushing  blow.  They  brought  out  a  whole  barrel 
of  confette,  and  drew  it  to  the  end  of  the  balcony 
nearest  the  boys.  Then  they  raised  it  to  the  edge, 
and  tilted  it  over.  Down  fell  the  confette  in  a  tor- 
rent, and  so  heavy  was  it,  and  so  continuous,  that 
the  boys  looked  up  in  amazement.  ^j^^j 

It  was  aimed  very  strangely,  certainly.  The 
fjilling  confette,  which  came  down  in  a  solid 
stream,  did  not  touch  one  of  the  boys,  but,  singu- 
larly enough,  poured  itself  into  the  barrel,  now 
quite  empty,  and  filled  it  full.  It  was  this,  rather 
than  anything  else,  that  so  amazed  the  boys.  Was 
this  some  propitious  being,  some  ally,  who  thus. re- 
plenished their  magazines  at  the  moment  of  their 
sorest  need  ?  One  look  gave  an  answer  to  the 
question  ;  for  there,  at  that  corner  of  the  balcony, 
still  holding  the  now  empty  barrel  balanced  so  as 


LUDLOW   AGAIN.  ,  2G9 

to  ponr  out  the  few  remaining  atoms,  there,  his 
bushy  hair  and  beard,  and  his  tawny  skin,  all  white 
with  plaster-dust,  they  recognized  their  friend 
Ludlow. 

As  their  eyes  met  his,  he  burst  into  a  roar  of 
laugh  tej. 

"  Don't  give  up  the  sliip,  boys ! "  lie  cried. 
"  Stand  to  your  guns  like  men  !  Remember  '7G  I 
'  The  Union  must  and  shall  be  preserved.'  '  Give 
me  liberty  or  give  me  death.'  '  Libei  ty  and 
Union,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable.' 
'  Free  trade  and  sailors'  rights.'  *  Strike  till  the 
last  armed  foe  expires  !  Strike  for  your  altars  and 
your  fires  !  Strike  for  the  green  graves  of  your 
sires  ! '     Erin  go  Unum,  E  pluribus  bragh  !  " 

These  astonishing  sentences  were  howled  out 
by  Ludlow  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  which  was  heard 
far  above  the  din  and  the  hurly-burly  all  around. 
Oi^e  look  at  Ludlow  had  been  sufficient  to  convince 
them  that  he  had  taken  his  part  in  the  activities  of 
the  occasion,  and  it  hardly  needed  this  astonishing 
flood  of  nonsense  to  show  how  fully  he  had  been 
seized  by  the  fever  of  the  Carnival.  They  saw  in 
the  balcony  with  him  another  familiar  face,  —  that 
of  his  wife,  —  which  pretty  face  was  now  as  white 
as  that  of  any  in  the  street.  The  balcony  was  over- 
hung with  an  enormous  American  flag,  while  above 
it  towered  a  big  American  eagle. 

After  shouting  out  the  words  above  reported, 
Ludlow  disappeared.      A  few  moments  after  the 


270  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

door  behind  tbem  opened,  and  Lndlow  reappeared. 
He  dragged  them  all  inside,  locked  the  door,  and 
then  hurried  them  up  to  the  balcony. 

"  How  lucky  tliat  you  came  here ! "  said  he. 
"  You're  just  in  time  to  see  the  greatest  sight  in 
all  <~'hristendom,  with  one  exception,  which  won't 
bo  seen  for  five  weeks  yet." 

As  tliey  entered  the  balcony,  Mrs.  Ludlow 
nodded  pleasantly,  but  was  too  busy  watching  the 
cflect  of  a  shower  of  confette  which  she  was  then 
engaged  in  pouring  upon  some  one  below.  Hav- 
ing done  tliis  important  task  to  her  full  satisfaction, 
she  turned,  and  gave  to  each  of  tliem  a  hand,  as 
well  plastered  and  as  white  as  their  own.  In  the 
•  midst  of  this  friendly  greeting,  however,  a  tremen- 
dous torrent  of  confette  was  hurled  upon  them, 
evidently  by  way  of  retaliation  from  some  sufferer 
below.  Their  conversation  and  greetings  were 
thus  abruptly  terminated  by  coughings  and  gasp, 
ings. 

*'  Boys,''  cried  Ludlow,  "  this  is  not  a  time  for  ad- 
ulation. The  smoothness  of  flattery  cannot  avail 
us  in  this  rugged  and  awful  crisis.  'The  combat 
deepens.     On,  ye  brave  ! '  " 

With  which  words  he  raised  up  another  barrel 
of  confette,  and  poUred  down,  indiscriminately,  a 
vast  amount  of  the  contents.  The  crowd  below 
scattered.  The  boys  seized  scoops  and  baskets. 
Mrs.  Ludlow  sprang  to  the  guns.  The  balcony  be- 
came a  battery,  from  which  the  most  voluminous, 


A    SUDDEN   CHANGE.  271 

the  most  massive,  tlie  most  accnratoly-aimod,  and 
the  best-sustained  discharges  of  confette  were  ^ent 
fortli  that  ever  was  known  in  the  annals  of  tlie 
Eternal  City. 

The  boys  now  had  every  advantage.  They  had 
done  wild  work  below ;  but  from  this  commanding 
point  they  hu  1  the  crowd;  both  on  foot  and  in  car- 
riages, completely  at  their  mercy. 

At  length  a  gun  fired. 

In  an  instant  a  change  took  place.  Every  one 
ceased  throwing  confette.  Every  one  stood  still. 
Every  carriage  hastened  to  get  out  of  the  Corso, 
turning  down  the  nearest  side  street.  In  about 
five  minutes  there  was  not  a  single  carriage  visible 
throughout  its  entire  length.  Into  the  space 
whicii  thus  far  had  been  occupied  by  the  continu- 
ous streams  of  carriages  that  passed  up  and  down 
the  crowd  now  found  themselves,  so  that  the  street 
showed  a  dense  mass  of  human  beings,  which  was 
increased  by  the  return  of  those  who  had  sent 
their  carriages  home.  It  was  a  noisy,  laughing, 
jesting  crowd,  but  no  longer  a  struggling,  warring 
crowd,  for  the  time  of  the  confette  had  passed 
away,  and  all  the  white  clouds,  which  a  short  time 
before  had  made  the  Corso  look  like  a  street  in  a 
snow-storm,  had  vanished  from  sight. 

And  now  from  the  Piazza  del  Popolo  a  troop  of 
dragoons  charged  at  full  gallop  into  the  midst  of 
the  dense  crowd.  It  seemed  very  dangerous,  but 
the    crowd    gave    but   little  heed  to  this.     They 


272  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

moved  to  citlior  side  in  a  very  leisurely  manner,  so 
as  to  afford  room  for  the  dragoons  to  pass ;  but  the 
moment  they  had  passed  they  moved  back  again, 
so  that  it  was  difficult  to  see  what  had  been  ac- 
complished by  this  cavalry  charge.  It  was  in- 
tended to  make  a  course  for  the  race-horses,  but 
its  result  was  not  particularly  successful.  Still  it 
served  to  prepare  tlie  crowd  for  what  was  coming, 
and  they  now  stood  silent,  straining  their  eyes  and 
ears  in  the  direction  of  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  to 
see  or  to  hear  some  signs  of  the  coming  racers. 

At  last  they  came  —  some  twenty  horses  or 
more,  witiiout  riders,  having  spurs  and  goads  at- 
tached in  such  a  way  that  their  motion  would  cause 
them  to  pierce  the  skin.  In  an  instant  the  silence 
ceased,  and  there  arose,  far  up  the  Corso,  a  low, 
deep  sound,  like  the  roar  of  many  waters,  like  the 
thunder  of  a  cataract,  or  the  hoarse  roar  of  the 
surf  on  the  sea-shore,  —  the  voice  of  a  mighty  mul- 
titude. It  was  the  multitudinous  cry  of  those  who 
stood  nearest  to  the  rushing  horses,  who  made  way 
for  them,  opening  on  either  side,  and  falling  back, 
who  shouted  and  yelled  to  excite  the  racers,  and 
also  to  give  w^arning  to  the  people  farther  on.  And 
as  the  horses  fled  along,  and  the  crowd  divided, 
the  cry  also  came  rolling  down  the  Corso  in  a 
thunder-peal,  caught  up  by  successive  crowds 
among  the  myriads  of  people,  and  following,  and 
preceding,  and  accompanying  the  horses  all  along. 

The  people  in  the  balconies  caught  up  the  cry, 


ILLUMINATION.  273 

and  from  every  balcony,  from  every  window,  and 
from  every  house-top  there  waved  flags  and  colored 
streamers,  shaken  out  into  the  air  by  the  excited 
spectators,  till  all  the  atmosphere  seemed  to  vibrate 
and  thrill  wiih  the  agitation  and  tossivg  up  and 
clown  of  numerous  colors. 

^,  Through  such  a  scene  as  +his,  along  such  a  race- 
course, with  all  these  exciting  sounds  ringing  in 
their  ears,  with  all  these  bewildering  sights  daz- 
zling their  eyes,  stimulated  also  by  the  sting  of 
the  tolling  goads,  the  race-horses  flew  along  tho 
Corso,  and  held  on  their  way,  in  madness  and  fear, 
till  they  reached  the  goal. 

v^.  By  this  time  it  began  to  grow  dark.  Twilight 
is  short  in  this  southern  clime  —  day  rushes  into 
night,  and  there  is  but  little  evening.  Now  tho 
darkness  hurried  on,  and  the  boys  began  to  fear 
that  all  was  over;  but  the  crowd  still  remained, 
and  they  knew  by  this  time  that  there  was  some- 
thing yet  to  be  seen.  What  that  something  was, 
they  all  wondered ;  but  no  one  asked  Ludlow,  for 
they  preferred  having  the  thing  disclose  itself. 

At  length  all  was  revealed. 
^  For,  as  the  darkness  deepened,  the  street, 
throughout  its  whole  length,  began  to  exhibit  flame 
after  flame,  until  at  length  there  gleamed  the  lustre 
of  innumerable  points  of  lights.  These  lights  be- 
gan to  flash  from  all  the  windows,  and  from  all  the 
balconies,  and  from  all  the  house-tops.  But  it  was 
on  the  windows  of  the  basement,  in  the  lower  bal- 

18 


274  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

coniea,  and  in  the  street  that  the  lights  wore  by  far 
most  numerous. 

Now  Ludlow  produced  some  tapers,  and  began 
to  light  them,  and  distribute  them  to  his  party. 
These  tapers  were  of  wax,  about  eight  or  ten 
inches  in  length,  and  about  as  thick  as  the  stem  of 
a  clay  pipe  or  an  ordinary  slate  pencil.  But  they 
were  too  high  up  to  take  part  in  the  coming  sport, 
and  so  they  contented  themselves,  for  the  present, 
with  watching. 

All  the  lower  windows  were  wide  open,  and 
filled  with  ladies  in  festal  attire.  Each  lady  held  a 
light.  The  street  was  as  full  as  ever,  and  every 
one  in  the  crowd  held  a  burning  taper;  and  all 
that  crowd  now  began  to  rush  swiftly  to  and  fro, 
and  up  and  down,      i.^v   -^   ;.  .,  :/    r.  .    j.. 

Suddenly  a  wild  cry  arose. 

"  Senza  moccolo  !  Senza  moccolo  !  Senza  rnoc- 
colo !  Senza  moccolo-o-o-o-o-o-o-oo-o  I  Senza  moc- 
colooo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o  ! " 

Once  more  appeared  the  riot,  the  tumult,  the 
confusion,  the  struggle,  and  the  strife  of  the  Car- 
nival. Confette  had  had  its  day ;  now  the  struggle 
was  with  blazing  tapers.  Every  man  held  a  burn- 
ing taper  in  one  hand  and  a  handkerchief  in  the 
other.  With  this  handkerchief  each  man  tried  to 
extinguish  his  neighbor's  light,  uttering,  as  he  did 
80,  the  cry, — 

"  Senza  moccolo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o  ! " 

The   chief  amusement  was  on  the   sidewalks, 


SENZA   MOCCOLO.  275 

where  the  lower  windows  opened  out, and  where  tlio 
lower  balconies  were  within  reacli.  In  these  win- 
dows and  balconies  were  ladies,  iiolding  lijj^lits  and 
handkerchiefs.  Passers  by  assailed  them,  trying  to 
cast  their  handkerchiefs  over  the  burning  tapers, 
while  the  ladies  tried  to  preserve  their  own  lights, 
and  extinguish  those  of  their  assailants.  Loud 
was  the  laughter,  incessan.  the  jests  and  outcries. 
Between  the  ladies  at  the  windows  and  their  as- 
sailants on  the  sidewalks  there  was  an  incessant 
flow  of  banter  and  witty  repartee.  '  None  could 
remain  long  at  one  place,  or  make  more  than  one 
throw  of  the  handkerchief  at  the  same  taper.  The 
crowd  was  constantly  in  motion. 

Out  in  the  street  it  was  the  same,  only  more 
noisy,  and  the  crowd  moved  more  swiftly  to  and 
fro.  Every  man  attacked  his  neighbor.  Whilo 
one  mau  would  extinguish  his  neighbor's  light,  his 
own  would  be  quenched.  Amid  all  these,  were 
otiiers  trying  to  kindle  again  their  tapers  from  the 
flame  of  others,  which  they  intended  to  extinguish 
the  moment  their  own  was  lighted;  but  against 
.this  every  one  guarded  most  vigilantly,  so  th^^t, 
whilo  it  was  difficult  to  keep  a  taper  lighted,  it  was 
far  more  difficult  to  kindle  it  again  when  once  it 
had  been  put  out. 

And  above  all  this  uproar  rose  the  multitudinous 
cry,  — 

"  Senza  moccolo !  Senza  moccolo !  Senza  mocco- 
lo  1  Senza  moccolo !  Senza  moccolo !  Senza  moc- 
colo-o  O-0-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O  ! " 


276  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

This  scene  the  boys  watched  from  the  balcony 
of  Ludlow  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  minute.  They 
then  could  remain  inactive  no  longer.  They  ruslied 
down  with  their  blazing  tapers,  and  flung  them- 
selves into  the  struggling,  roaring,  laughing,  jesting 
crowd,  above  all  whose  struggles,  and  roars,  and 
laughter,  and  jests  arose  the  cry,  —  Senza  moccolo ! 
Senza  moccolo !  Senza  moccolo  J  Senza  moccolo  ! 
Senza  moccolo  I  Senza  moccolo-o-o-o-oo-o-o-o-o-oo  I 
But  the  endeavor  to  represent  the  prolonged  into- 
nation which  the  crowd  threw  on  that  last  syllable, 
would  exhaust  the  largest  stock  of  "  O's  "  in  the 
largest  printing-office  in  tlio  land.  -': 

At  length  —  a  gun  !      -  .   /-iia^       '^  ^' 

Then  —  fireworks.        *^     w,,.i    i.r/vv 
And  80  ended  the  last  day  of  the  Carnival  at 
Rome.   '"   ;:;  •  ^•"^'     '  '['  ■•^^'"  ■■""■  '  '[  ■■'';■•;  ■■^;_ 

'i-.-,j  i-, !;.;■.  ,,.:,■-,  Mi;:^  ,.:.ij;,;,i:'-:v;,vr!it -/  'Vu  ;-;i:i.^ /v'..-.y4i!jKJ 

■   '■.-'-  "    '   "     ■     .  ■    .'     -,         ,  ■       i--  1    ^  ■■.-■-_-...■■-■■.-, 

-     '  .  >■  .  'i  '    ■  '        '  ■  '  T 

/-  .  ,    "  '■,  ,       .  .  , ,       '  ,  ^  '      ■      .     '       ■ .'      •     •  ^  ,      ■  ->    'V  .  "■- , 

_  •;  la--'    >■;;.■-;.'  <»f    »,"'..<  ^i-  T^r.  '■;•..    ■.),»■;->    '^'v-'-     -y '•;■<- '''i      ;,-.W,s:  jj  ^V''■■•^,V:• 


--.-i-7-.r-^'^ '-^-,'-_--^  i  -fr" 


OBJECT  OP  LUDOW'S  VISIT.  277 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  Wonders  of  the  Vatican  Palace. —  The  Galleries  of  Art. 
—  The  Apollo  Belvedere.  —  The  Laocoon.  —  The  Lapida- 
rian  Gallery.  —  The  Immortal  Paintings.  —  'The  Trans- 
figuration.  —  Bewildering  Array  of  Works  of  Art,  —  In- 
terminable Galleries, 


'^^IJpEETING   SO   unexpectedly  with   Ludlow 

fwK.  would  have  been,  under  any  circum- 
""^P^  stances,  most  delightful  to  the  boys,  with 
whom  he  and  his  wife  also  were  immense  favorites ; 
but  his  arrival  brought  to  them  certain  advantages 
which,  without  him,  they  could  never  have  enjoyed. 
Ludlow  was  an  enthusiastic  artist,  and  also  knew 
Rome  perfectly.  He  had  brought  his  young  wife 
here  at  this  time  to  show  her  the  great  city  at  ita 
best;  to  show  her  all  the  treasures  of  art,  of  an- 
tiquity, and  of  religion,  which  had  accumulated 
here  during  ages  of  zealous,  fostering  care.  Of 
antiquities  and  of  religious  edifices  the  boys  had 
already  seen  much,  but  as  yet  they  had  seen  noth- 
ing of  the  wonders  of  art  —  the  statues  and  paint- 
ings, the  museums  and  galleries,  in  which  Rome  is 
so  rich.     And  so,  when  Ludlow  invited  them  to  ac- 


278  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

company  him  and  bis  wife  tlicy  accepted  the  invi- 
tation with  the  greatest  delight.  ''^ 

First  of  all  they  visited  the  far-fumed  Palace  of 
the  Vatican.  The  size  of  this  palace  is  immense, 
and,  as  it  is  composed  of  parts  erected  at  dificrent 
intervals,  it  is  very  irregular  in  its  shape.  Within 
its  Willis  are  treasured  up  the  most  noble  paintings 
in  the  world,  the  most  glorious  sculptures,  and  tiio 
most  precious  collection  of  antiquities.  For  this 
cause  the  Palace  of  the  Vatican  is  a  place  of  pil- 
grimage for  artists  and  scholars,  and  the  very  name 
is  a  household  word  in  the  educated  world. 

The  Museum  first  claimed  their  attention.  The 
first  division  of  the  Museum  is  the  Lapidarian  Gal- 
lery. It  is  a  hall  a  thousand  feet  in  length,  filled  with 
inscriptions  and  sculptures,  principally  from  ancient 
tombs.  Here  in  this  gallery  one  beholds  a  scene 
unequalled  in  all  the  world.  On  one  side  there  is 
a  long  array  of  stone  tablets  —  the  slabs  that  once 
shut  in  the  tombs  of  the  Christians  in  the  Cata- 
combs ;  on  the  other  is  another  long  array  of  tab- 
lets taken  from  Pagan  tombs.  Each  bear  their  own 
epitaphs,  and  the  visitor  is  able,  by  looking  to  the 
right  or  the  left,  and  reading  the  Pagan  or  the 
Christian  epitaph,  to  contrast  the  two,  and  to  meas- 
ure at  that  one  glance  the  infinite  difference.  For 
in  the  one  there  is  nothing  but  the  language  of  de- 
spair, or  the  sad  longing  after  the  vanished  pleas- 
ures of  the  world ;  in  the  other  there  is  the  ex- 
pression of  that  faith  that  filled  the  soul  of  the 


GALLERIES   OP   SCULPTURE.  270 

miirtyrs,  and  of  that  hope  of  tlieirs  which  was  full 
of  immortality. 

One  '^xgau  cpitapli  says,  — 

"  /,  Procopias,  lift  up  my  hands  against  the  gods 
who  snatched  away  me  innoceniJ^ 

On  the  opposite  side  a  Christian  epitaph  sayp,  — 

"  In  Christ,  peace.  Easchia,  a  sweet  soul,  sleeps 
in  2^eace." 

And  these  two  may  be  taken  as  specimens  of  tho 
whole. 

It  was  with  feelings  of  the  deepest  interest  that 
the  boys  looked  upon  these.  Their  own  visit  to 
the  Catacombs  had  enabled  them  to  appreciate  the 
value  of  the  Christian  sentiment  thus  expressed, 
and  to  look  p.pon  these  contrasted  epitaphs  with 
feelings  of  no  common  kind. 

Beyond  this  gallery  is  another  of  the  same  size, 
and  filled  with  more  tlian  a  thousand  pieces  of 
sculpture,  all  arranged  in  the  best  manner,  and 
showing  pieces  of  every  degree  of  excellence. 
With  this  gallery  others  are  connected,  filled,  like 
this,  with  sculpture.  On  one  side  is  a  room  con- 
taining magnificent  works  of  ancient  art,  while 
at  its  end  is  another,  where,  in  the  mid^it  of  many 
other  works,  is  a  mutilated  statue  of  Hercules,  of 
such  wonderful  excellence,  that  it  is  one  of  the 
chief  studies  of  artists  at  the  present  day. 

Beyond  this  apartment  there  is  an  open  court 
with  a  fountain,  which  is  surrounded  by  a  portico, 
containing  four  small  rooms.     In  the  open  part  of 


280  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

the  portico  there  are  antique  marble  columns, 
baths  cut  in  porphyry,  and  sculptures  of  various 
kinds ;  while  the  four  small  rooms  are  devoted  to 
the  preservation  of  some  of  the  most  wonderful 
works  of  art  that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  In 
the  cabinet  on  the  right  are  three  famous  statues 
of  Canova,  —  the  Perseus  with  the  head  of  Medusa, 
and  tlie  two  Boxers.  In  these  last  every  muscle 
and  sinew  seems  to  be  brought  into  play,  while 
the  expression  of  fierce  resolution  on  their  faces 
has  never  been  surpassed.  But  the  Perseus  is  the 
best  of  the  three.  This  great  work  seems  the- 
personification  of  manly  beauty.  When  'lie  statues 
of  Apollo  and  the  Laoooon  were  taken  away  by 
Napoleon,  this  Perseus  and  the  Boxers  were  put 
in  their  places,  for  which  cause  the  former  received 
the  name  of  "  Consolatrice  " — the  Consoler.  After 
the  restoration  of  the  Apollo  and  the  Laocoon, 
Canova  wished  to  remove  his  own  statues,  thinking 
that  they  would  sulfer  from  a  comparison  with  the 
masterpieces  of  ancient  art,  but  his  request  was 
refused ;  and  here  they  remain,  worthy  compan- 
ions to  the  others,  and  representatives  of  the  best 
of  modern  sculptures. 

These  are  in  the  first  of  the  four  cabinets.  In 
the  second  cabinet  is  the  Antinous,  one  of  the  most 
admirable  pieces  of  ancient  art ;  once  admired 
and  studied  by  the  famous  painter  Doraenichino, 
who  used  to  declare  that  he  wa?i  indebted  to  this 
statue  for  his  knowledge  of  the  beautiful. 


THE   LAOCOON.  281 

In  the  third  cabinet  is  a  greater  work  than  these 
—  one  of  those  pieces  of  ancient  sculpture  which 
in  modern  times  have  been  called  miracles  of  art. 
It  is  the  famous  f^roup  of  the  Laocoon,  so  familiar 
to  all  by  descript  jns  and  by  pictures,  as  well  as 
by  plaster  cas..s.  This  group  was  described  by 
Pliny  in  a  well-known  passage.  It  was  found  in 
the  Baths  of  Titus.  The  artist  has  sought  to  rep- 
resent Laocoon,  the  priest  of  Apollo,  and  his  two 
sons,  devoured  by  serpents  sent  by  Minerva  to 
destroy  them.  Byron  has  described  this  group  in 
language  which  has  never  been  equalled  :  — 

"  Or,  turning  to  the  Vatican,  go  see 
Laocoon's  torture,  dignifying  pain  ; 
A  fiitlier's  love,  and  mortal's  agony, 
Witli  an  immortal's  patience  blending.     Vain 
The  struggle ;  vain  against  the  coiling  strain, 
And  gripe,  and  deepening  of  the  dragon's  clasp, 
The  old  man's  clinch  :  the  long  envenomed  chain 
Rivets  the  living  links ;  the  enormous  asp 

Enforces  pang  on  pang,  and  stifles  gasp  on  gasp." 

In  the  fourth  cabinet  is  a  statue  which  is,  perhaps, 
the  greatest  ever  produced  by  the  genius  of  man. 
It  is  the  famous  statue  of  the  Apollo  Belvedere, 
and  represents  that  god  as  he  is  conceived  to  have 
appeared  just  after  he  had  slain  the  Python.  Its 
discovery  at  Rome  took  place  about  a  hundred 
years  ago,  and  excited  the  most  boundless  enthusi- 
asm. Like  the  Laocoon,  it  is  familiar  to  all  from 
pictures,  plaster  casts,  and   copies  of  every   size 


282  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

and  sort.  Like  tliat  other  work  also,  it  transcends 
all  criticism.  Byron's  description  of  this  unfolds 
the  whole  meaning  and  power  of  this  marvellous 
work. 

'*  Or,  view  the  Lord  of  the  unerring  bow, 
The  God  of  life,  and  poesy,  and  light. 
The  sun  in  human  limbs  arrayed,  and  brow  if    o) 

All  radiant  from  his  triumph  in  the  fight.  _..j .  it 

The  sliaft  liath  just  been  shot;  the  arrow  bright 
With  an  immortal's  vengeance.     In  his  eye 
And  nostril,  beautiful  disdain,  and  might, 
And  majesty,  flash  their  full  lightnings  by, 

Developing  in  that  one  glance  the  Deity." 

"  And  if  ii.  be  Prometheus  stole  from  heaven  .^sui  i-j 

.1.         The  fire  which  we  endure,  it  was  repaid 
By  him  to  whom  the  energy  was  given 
Which  this  poetic  marble  hath  arrayed 
With  an  eternal  glory,  —  which,  if  made 
By  human  hands,  is  not  of  human  thought; 
And  Time  himself  hath  hallowed  it,  nor  laid 
One  ringlet  in  tlie  dust,  nor  hath  it  caught 

A  tinge  of  years,  but  breathes  the  flame  with  which 
'twas  wrought." 

Leaving  this,  they  next  entered  an  apartment 
called  the  Hall  of  Animals,  from  the  fact  that  it 
contains  a  collection  of  ancient  sculptures  of  almost 
every  kind  of  animal.  It  has  been  called  a 
Menagerie  of  Art.  On  one  side  is  another  gallery 
filled  with  ancient  statues,  the  most  famous  of 
which  is  "  Ariadne  Sleeping,"  while  beyond  it  are 
the  Halls  of  the  Busts  and  of  the  Muses.  Farther 
on  fatill  is  a  magnificent  circular  apartment,  in  the 


ETRUSCAN   ANTIQUITrES.  283 

centre  of  which  is  an  enormous  vase,  hollowof!  out 
of  a  single  block  of  porphyry  forty-two  feet  in 
circumference.  Passing  on  from  this^  they  came 
to  another  room,  in  the  form  of  a  Greek  cross,  in 
which  there  were  two  immense  sarcopliagi,  or  stone 
coffins,  made  of  porphyry.  One  of  these  is  said 
to  have  been  the  sarcophagus  of  the  Empress 
Helena,  the  mother  of  the  great  Constantine ;  the 
other,  that  of  Constantia,  his  daughter.  Then 
comes  a  flight  of  stairs,  at  the  head  of  which  is 
another  apartment,  called  the  Hall  of  the  Car, 
from  an  ancient  chariot  and  horses  which  it  con- 
tains. Besides  this  there  are  numerous  statues. 
Beyond  this  is  the  Gallery  of  the  Candelabra,  a 
thousand  feet  in  length,  containing  a  vast  collec- 
tion of  ancient  candelabra,  with  sculptures  and 
bronzes  of  many  different  kinds. 

Close  by  this  is  a  group  of  apartments  devoted 
to  the  exhibition  of  Etruscan  antiquities.  Here 
there  are  statue.,  bronzes,  sculptures  of  every 
kind,  vases,  sepulchral  urns,  together  with  many 
miscellaneous  articles,  principally  ornaments.  One 
of  the  most  iaiportant  things  here,  and  actually 
the  most  interesting  to  the  boys,  was  an  ancient 
chin-iot,  not  a  sculptured  one,  but  a  real  one.  It 
was  exhumed  near  Rome,  and  is  the  only  one  of 
the  kiiid  in  existence.  Near  the  entrance  are 
also  some  little  dark  cells,  made  to  imitate  Etruscan 
sepulchres. 

The  next  group   of  apartments  is  devoted  to 


284  THE   SEVEN   H1LL3. 

the  exhibition  of  Egyptian  antiquities,  where  the 
rooms  themselves  are  fashioned  in  the  Egyptian 
style,  and  are  in  accordance  with  the  things  which 
they  contain.  Here  there  are  glass  cases  filled 
with  curiosities  found  in  mummy  cases,  such  aa 
seals,  rings,  pins,  small  idols,  and  ornaments  of 
many  kinds ;  rooms  filled  with  mummies  and 
sarcophagi ;  and  other  rooms  filled  with  statues 
of  Egyptian  deities. 

Another  place  which  was  full  of  interest  to  them 
was  the  Vatican  Library.  Here  there  is  the  richest 
collection  of  ancient  manuscripts  in  the  world. 
The  rooms  are  magnificent,  adorned  with  frescoes, 
and  on  each  side  are  presses  filled  with  the  books  and 
manuscripts.  At  one  end  are  closets  containing 
articles  found  in  the  Catacombs,  and  some  small 
pictures,  the  work  of  the  early  Roman  Christians. 
In  other  closets  are  certain  implements  supposed 
to  have  been  used  for  torture,  which  also  were 
found  in  the  Catacombs.  Besides  these  there  are 
also  many  smaller  ancient  carvings  and  other 
works  of  art.  These,  they  saw,  but  none  of  the 
books  or  manuscripts  were  shown  them.,  for  those 
are  guarded  with  the  utmost  care,  and  cannot  be 
seen  without  specia^  permission  from  the  highest 
authority. 

In  anotlier  part  of  the  vast  structure  are  the 
galleries  which  contain  paintings  in  fresco  and  in 
oil.  The  entrance  to  them  is  through  the  "  Loggia 
of  Raphael."     The  Loggia  is  a  long  gallery,  open 


GALLERIES   OP  PAfNTTNGS  IN  FRESCO.  285 

on  one  aide  like  a  balcony  or  veranda.  It  is  now, 
however,  all  covered  in.  It  owes  its  fame  to  an 
immense  number  of  paintings  on  the  ceiling,  de- 
signed by  Raphael,  illustrative  of  scenes  in  Scrip- 
ture history,  and  fami4iar  to  every  one  by  the 
pictures  in  illustrated  Bibles.  Beyond  this  are 
four  apartments,  called  the  Stanze  di  Raffaelle,  or 
Chambers  of  Raphael,  where  that  great  painter  has 
left  immortal  works  of  genius.  The  paintings  here 
are  all  in  fresco,  —  which  means  painting  on  the 
plaster  wall,  —  and  these  are  the  finest  in  the  world. 
The  first  room  contains  scenes  in  the  life  of  the 
Emperor  Constantino ;  the  second,  scenes  in  the 
history  of  the  church  ;  the  third  has  pictures  of  an 
allegorical  character,  among  which  is  the  well- 
known  "  School  of  Athens  ;  "  while  the  fourth  con- 
tains pictures  representing  events  in  the  mcdia3val 
history  of  Rome,  such  as  the  coronation  of  Char- 
lemagne, the  defeat  of  the  Saracens,  &c. 

Near  to  these  are  other  apartments  containing  a 
collection  of  oil  paintings.  These  are  not  over  fifty 
in  number,  and  yet  so  great  is  their  excellence 
that  the  collection  is  the  best  in  existence,  and  the 
value  is  incalculable.  Chief  among  these  is  the 
greatest  work  of  Raphael  —  the  Transfiguration. 
This  picture  was  his  last  work,  and  was  begun  by 
him  in  order  to  redeem  his  reputation,  which  had 
suffered  somewhat  from  his  intrusting  the  execu- 
tion of  many  of  his  designs  to  his  scholars.  It 
proved  to  be  his  last  work,  and  he  had  scarcely 


286  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

finisliorl  it  when  he  died.  His  corpse  lay  in  state 
for  two  or  three  days  in  one  of  the  Roman 
clmrchos,  and  this  painting  was  liung  upon  tho 
wall  over  it. 

*'  When  Raphael  went 
To  sleep  beneath  the  venerable  dome 
All  Rome  was  there.     But  ere  the  march  began 
VV^ho  had  not  sought  him  ?    And  when  all  beheld 
Ilim,  where  he  lay,  how  changed  from  yesterday ! 
Ilitn  ill  that  hour  cut  off",  and  at  his  head 
His  last  great  work;  when,  entering  in,  they  looked 
Now  on  the  dead,  then  on  that  masterpiece, 
Now  on  Ills  face,  lifeless  and  colorless,  ,t-,y^ 

Then  on  those  forms  divine  that  lived  and  breathed. 
And  would  live  on  for  ages  —  all  were  moved ;  ' 
And  sighs  burst  forth,  and  loudest  lamentations." 

This  great  painting,  like  many  others  of  the 
works  of  art  in  the  Vatican,  has  been  so  often  en- 
graved, and  so  widely  circulated,  that  it  is  familiar 
to  all.  Most  especially  is  the  Head  of  Christ,  as 
Raphael  portrayed  it,  thus  familiar,  and  few  there 
are  wlio  have  not  been  moved  by  that  wonderful 
blending  of  holiness,  majesty,  and  love. 

The  day  ended  by  a  visit  to  the  manufacture  of 
mosaics,  in  a  part  of  the  Vatican  which  the  boy^*, 
in  spite  of  their  fatigue,  found  very  interesting. 
When  they  went  there,  the  worl^en  were  busily 
engaged  in  making  pictures,  in  m(^pc,  of  the  Popes 
of  Rome,  for  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul.  The 
process  of  making  a  mosaic  picture  is  excessively 
tedious.     First;  the  stones  must  be  made  out  of  a 


MANUFACTURE   OF   MOSAICS.  287 

species  of  composition,  and  colored  to  as  many 
as  lour  hundred  diirerent  shades.  Each  stone  is 
ahnost  as  thin  as  a  needle.  Then  these  stones  are 
set  in  a  bed,  excavated  from  a  slab,  to  the  depth  of 
an  inch  or  so,  in  such  a  way  as  to  copy  a  picture 
with  perfect  accuracy.  The  slab  in  which  these 
colored  stones  are  set  is  formed  out  of  a  composi- 
tion made  of  pulverized  travertine.  The  workman 
has  the  picture  before  him,  which  he  copies,  and 
as  he  proceeds,  he  cuts  out  the  composition,  so  as 
to  riake  a  place  for  the  insertion  of  the  fine  mosaic 
stones.  The  work  is  one  which  requires  the  utmost 
care  and  patience.  The  time  occupied  in  copying 
some  pictures  has  amounted  to  over  twenty  years ; 
but  such  time  is  not  lost,  for  such  a  copy  as  this 
is  virtually  indestructible  and  imperishable.  It 
stands,  a  perfect  copy  —  not  on  crumbling  plaster, 
or  on  frail  canvas,  but  in  stone  —  or  more,  in  a 
composition  which  is  a  species  of  glass,  and  is 
beyond  the  reach  of  harm  from  any  cause  except 
fire. 


288  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  Wonders  of  the  Capitoline  Hill. —  The  dying  Gladiator. 
—  The  colossal  Foot. —  The  Statue  of  Marcus  A  urelius. — 
The  Palaces  of  Rome  aud  their  Statues.  —  The  Villas  of 
Route  and  their  Gardens.  —  Too  much  Splendor  and 
Magnificence. 


2(^>f^,IIE  visit  to   the  Vatican   produced  an   im- 

fpression  of  'bewilderment  upon  the  minds 
of  the  boys.  Such  a  vast  collection  of 
halls,  galleries,  quadrangles,  and  cabinets  they 
had  never  met  with  before.  Besides,  the  accumula- 
tion of  things  here  was  so  prodigious  that  their 
minds  failed  to  take  in  everything.  Out  of  each 
department  but  a  few  remained  prominent:  among 
sculptures  they  remembered  the  Laocoon  and  the 
Apollo ;  among  paintings,  the  Transfiguration, 
while  the  inscriptions  of  the  Lapidarian  gallery 
and  the  Mosaic  factory  could  not  easily  be  forgot- 
ten. But  other  places  invited  attention  also,  and 
Ludlow  offered  to  take  them  to  all  the  chief  places 
of  interest  first,  after  which  they  could  select 
what  they  pleased  for  further  visits. 

Rome  is  pre-eminently  the  city  of  churches.     It 
is  also  the  city  of  palaces.     No  less  than  eighty 


CAPITOLINE  HILLS.  289 

buildings  exist  here  which  arc  called  by  this  name. 
These  buildings  are  of  every  grade,  from  the 
unapproachable  glories  of  the  Vatican,  through 
every  degree  of  splendor,  down  to  plainness  and 
even  meanness. 

Next  to  the  Vatican  Palace,  that  of  the  Quirinal 
is  most  famous.  Until  recently  it  was  one  of  the 
pope's  residences,  and  had  this  character  at  the 
time  of  our  boys'  visits.  Its  spacious  apartments, 
lordly  halls,  and  magnificent  galleries  excited 
their  utmost  admiration.  Among  the  pictures 
here,  they  were  most  struck  by  a  Head  of  Christ, 
which  was  already  familiar  to  them  through  en- 
gravings called  "  Ecce  Homo."  From  the  Quirinal 
Palace,  Ludlow  took  them  to  the  Museum  of  the 
Capitol,  a  place  erected,  ai^  the  name  implies,  upon 
the  top  of  the  Capitoline  Hill.  The  collection  of 
sculpture  here  ranks  next  after  that  at  the  Vatican. 
In  the  court^yard  below  is  an  immense  statue  of 
Oceanus,  and  on  ascending  the  stairs  to  the  gal- 
leries of  sculpture  they  saw  ancient  plans  of 
Rome,  which  had  been  engraved  in  stone  set  ifi 
the  wall.  These  were  discovered  three  hundred 
years  ago,  and  give  an  idea  of  the  streets  .  of  the 
ancient  city.  On  reaching  the  Museum,  they 
passed  through  gallery  after  gallery,  enc  tunter- 
ing  at  every  step  new  forms  of  beauty  or  of 
power.  The  first  apartment  is  ol  great  extent, 
and  is  called  the  Hall  of  the  Vase,  from  a  beautiful 
antique  vase,  which  forms  its  principal  ornament. 

19 


290  THE  SEVEN   HTLLS. 

Tho  second  is  called  the  ITall  of  the  EmperorS; 
from  the  fiict  that  it  contains  ancient  busts  of 
nearly  all  of  those  mighty  rulers.  Then  comes 
the  Ilall  of  the  Philosophers,  with  busts  of  philoso- 
phers, as  well  as  of  poets  and  orators.  Here  is 
the  godlike  brow  of  Homer,  the  strangely  ugly 
face  of  Socrates,  the  lofty  forehead  of  Plato,  and 
the  intellectual  head  of  Cicero.  Then  comes  a 
large  hall  filled  with  statues,  among  which  tho 
chief  is  a  bronze  one  of  Hercules.  Another  room 
full  of  statues  adjoins  this,  and  in  a  chaml)er  load- 
ing from  this  is  a  piece  of  sculpture  which  gives 
glory  to  tho  whole  Museum  of  the  Capitol,  and 
•  stands,  in  the  estimation  of  the  world,  side  by  side 
with  the  Laocoon  and  the  Apollo  Belvedere,  as 
one  of  those  immortal  works  which  have  been 
called  miracles  of  art.  Every  one  is  familiar  with 
this  statue  from  copies  in  stone  or  plaster,  engrav- 
ings and  photographs.  For  a  long  time  after  its 
first  discovery,  it  was  a  matter  of  dispute  whether 
it  was  a  Gladiator  or  Herald  ;  but  the  question  was 
at  length  decided  in  favor  of  the  theory  that  it 
was  designed  to  represent  a  wounded  Gaul  in  the 
agonies  of  death.  But  still  it  is  called  the  Dying 
Gladiator,  and  that  name  it  will,  no  doubt,  retain 
permanently.  Besides  the  great  and  wonderful 
excellence  of  the  statue'itself,  it  has  been  endowed 
with  a  new  and  more  pathetic  interest  by  the 
melancholy  genius  of  Byron. 


THE  PALACES  OP   ROME.  291 

**  I  8Pe  before  mo  the  Rlarliator  Ho ! 
IIu  k'luis  upon  liii)  hiirul ;  his  ninnly  brow 
Cunacnts  to  death,  but  conquers  agony, 
And  h's  drooped  iiead  sinks  gradually  low, 
And  through  Ids  side  the  last  drops,  ebbing  sIomt 
From  the  red  g.ish,  fall  heavy,  one  by  on 
Like  the  first  of  a  thunder-shower.     And  nov 
The  arena  swims  around  him.     He  is  gone  I  ^ 

Ere  ceased  the  inhuman  shout  which  hailed  the  wretch 
who  won. 

"  lie  heard  it,  but  ho  hooded  not.     His  cyos 
Were  with  his  heart;  and  that  was  far  away. 
H'>  recked  not  of  the  life  he  lost,  nor  prize ; 
But  where  his  rude  hut  by  the  Danube  lay. 
There  were  his  young  barbarians  all  at  play, 
There  was  their  Daeian  mother  —  he,  their  sire, 
Butchered  to  make  a  Koman  holiday. 
All  this  rushed  with  his  blood.     Shall  he  expire, 

And  unavenged?     Arise,  ye  Goths,  and  glut  your 
ire !  " 

Opposite  the  Museum  of  the  Capitol  is  the 
Palace  of  the  Conservatori.  Here  there  is  an 
admirable  collection  of  paintings  and  ancient  works 
of  art,  the  most  famous  of  which  is  a  very  ancient 
image  of  a  wolf  and  two  infants  in  bronze.  It  was 
intended,  undoubtedly,  to  represent  Romulus  and 
Remus  with  the  fabled  wolf  that  nourislied  them. 
It  is  supposed  to  be  the  identical  bronze  wolf 
mentioned  by  Cicero  as  having  been  struck  by 
lightning  when  Ca3sar  fell. 

On  leaving  this  palace,  they  visited  some  pieces 
of  sculpture  in  the  court-yard,  where  they  saw  the 


292  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

foot  of  a  coloflsfil  fltatiio,  so  largo  that  tlie  groat  too 
was  more  than  twelve  inches  in  thickness.  Then 
passing  out  they  camo  to  tho  square  of  the  Capitol. 
Here  there  is  the  finest  bronze  equestrian  statue 
in  existence.  It  is  ancient,  and  represents  tlio 
Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius.  It  was  once  gilded, 
but  only  a  little  now  remains  on  tho  horse's 
head.  It  is  said  that  Michael  Angelo  admired  this 
statue  exceedingly,  and  was  never  tired  of  looking 
at  it.  Once,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm,  he  shouted  out 
to  it,  "  Cammina  I  "  —  Get  up. 

From  this  place  they  went  the  round  of  other 
palaces.  Tiiey  visited  the  Borgliese  Palace,  a 
great  edifice,  with  the  largest,  though  not  the  best 
collection  of  paintings,  in  Rome.  Raphael,  Domoni- 
chino,  Titian,  Guido,  and  most,  if  not  all  of  the 
great  masters,  are  represented  here  by  some  mag- 
nificent painting.  The  adornment  of  this  palace  is 
in  keeping  with  its  costly  treasures  of  art ;  marble 
floors,  gilded  ceilings,  and  rich  tapestries  appear 
on  every  side. 

More  splendid  still  is  the  Colonna  Palace,  with 
its  pavement  of  precious  marbles  of  every  color, 
polished  like  glass,  its  walls  of  verd-antique  and 
polished  porphyry,  itb  vast  mirrors  with  paintings 
upon  their  surface,  its  lofty  ceilings  of  fretted 
gold.  The  paintings  here  are  numerous  and  ex- 
cellent, all  being  the  works  of  great  masters.  One 
curiosity  is  shown  here,  in  the  shape  of  a  cannon 
ball  which  fell  into  th"3  palace  during  a  bombard- 


BEATRICE   CENCI.  293 

mont  by  tlio  French,  tit  tho  tinio  of  tlio  sic^o  in 
1848.  T'.io  ball  broko  a  pano  of  glass  and  Hliattcrod 
a  marblo  step,  but  did  no  further  injury.  It  lies 
now  in  the  place  where  it  stopped. 

Anotlicr  groat  palace  is  tho  Orsini,  "which,  like 
the  one  just  mentioned,  i.s  adorned  with  the  utniOHt 
magnificence,  and  contains  many  noble  works 
of  !.rt. 

The  Barborini  Pfdace  is  of  great  size  and  beauty, 
but  has  only  a  small  collection  of  works  of  art. 
Among  these,  however,  is  one  picture  which  is 
among  those  that  are  known  and  admired  in  all 
lands,  which  has  been  copied  and  recopied  inim- 
nierable  times,  in  every  shape  and  way,  —  in  oils, 
in  engravings,  in  photographs,  and  in  stereoscopic 
views.  It  is  tho  exquisite  face  of  Beatrice  Cenci, 
with  its  mournful  eyes,  golden  hair,  and  tender, 
pathetic  expression.  Tho  picture  has  a  legend 
connected  with  it,  which  states  that  it  was  copied 
by  the  painter  Guide,  from  his  remembrance  of 
he'  '■'"t  look  as  she  ascended  the  scaffold,  and 
prepare  d  to  lay  down  her  head  upon  the  block. 
Wheth3r  this  legend  be  true  or  not,  it  will  always 
be  connected  with  the  picture  of  Beatrice  Cenci. 

At  the  Spada  Palace  they  saw  an  ancient  statue, 
upon  which  they  looked  with  indescribable  interest. 
It  represents  Pompey,  and  is  supposed  to  be  the 
very  one  at  the  base  of  which  CtDsar  fell  when  ho 
was  struck  down  by  the  daggers  of  conspirators. 
This  statue  seemed  familiar  to  them  all,  from  the 


294  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

well-known  lines  in  that  well-known  speech  of 
Marc  Antony,  at  which  all  of  them  had  done  their 
part  in  declaiming. 

"  Then  burst  his  mighty  heart ; 
And  in  his  mantle  muffling  up  his  face, 
Even  at  tlie  base  of  Pompey's  statue, 
Which  all  the  while  ran  blood,  great  Caesar  fell ; 
Then  I,  and  you,  and  all  of  us  fell  down, 
While  bloody  treason  flourished  over  us." 

This  statue  has  also  been  described  by  Byron  in 
a  well-known  passage : —  . 

**  And  thou,  dread  statue,  yet  existent  in        .  "  .   ^  - 

The  austerest  form  of  naked  majesty,  v 

ThoU;  who  beheldest  'mid  the  assassin's  din, 
At  thy  bathed  base  the  bloody  Cajsar  lie,       ■  '      '  '  '^ 
Folding  his  robe  in  dying  dignity,  f        .  ;.  1^^  ■ 

An  offering  to  thine  altar  from  the  queen 
Of  gods  and  men,  great  Nemesis  !  did  he  die, 
And  thou  too  perish,  Poiupcy?    Have  ye  been 
Victors  of  countless  kings,  or  puppets  of  a  scene?" 

Another  palace,  which  excited  some  interest  of  a 
peculiar  kind  in  the  minds  of  the  boys,  was  the 
Farnese  Palace.  Their  interest  arose  from  the 
fact  that  this  palace  was  built  of  stones  taken 
from  the  Coliseum.  They  recalled  the  appearance 
of  that  mighty  ruin  from  which  such  an  enormous 
quantity  of  stones  had  been  taken,  and  in  the  size 
of  the  huge  blocks  of  the  Farnese  Palace  they 
recognized  the  old  Roman  handiwork.  Other  pl'm- 
der  also  appears  in  this  place,  chief  among  which 


ROMAN   VILLAS.  295 

is  a  beautiful  sarcophagus  in  the  court-yard,  which 
was  taken  from  the  tomb  of  C;iecilia  Metella. 
The  palace  happens  to  be  one  of  those  which  is 
most  distinguished  for  beauty  of  architecture,  and 
justly  so,  since  it  was  the  work  of  Michael  Angelo. 
But  even  the  stately  front  designed  by  the  greatest 
of  architects,  cannot  make  amends  for  the  wrong 
and  injury  done  to  the  mighty  Coliseum  ;  and  not 
one  of  the  boys  would  have  hesitated,  if  the  choice 
had  been  in  his  power,  to  see  the  palace  vanish 
like  Aladdin's,  if  by  so  doing  the  stones  could  be 
deposited  in  their  original  resting-places. 

Besides  the  palaces  of  Rome,  there  are  also  other 
edifoes  equally  palatial,  known  as  Villas.  These 
are  numerous  and  splendid.  Chief  among  them  is 
the  Villa  Borghese.  Its  grounds  are  of  great 
extent,  and  are  adorned  with  everything  that  art 
or  luxury  could  suggest.  There  seems  to  have 
been  an  effort  to  reproduce  the  ornaments  and  the 
style  of  classical  antiquity  in  the  laying  out  of 
these  grounds.  On  every  side  there  are  temples, 
groves,  and  vases,  with  statues  of  gods,  fauns, 
nymphs,  and  satyrs.  The  Casino  here  is  magnifi- 
cently adorned.  The  pavements  are  of  polished 
marbles,  the'  walls  and  ceilings  are  adorned  with 
paintings,  while  on  every  side  the  eye  encounters 
marble  statueso  From  the  balcony  here,  there  is 
a  magnificent  prospect.  The  grounds  of  the  Villa 
Borghese  are  thrown  open  to  the  public  with 
the  greatest  liberality,  or  were  at  this  time,  so  that 


296  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

they  deserved  to  be  considered  as  the  Park  of 
Rome. 

Another  one  of  the  principal  houses  of  this 
class  is  the  Villa  Albano.  The  gardens  around 
this  are  very  extensive,  and  the  approach  to  the 
house  is  most  beautiful.  The  walks  are  all  stiff 
and  formal,  in  the  style  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
while  on  every  side  there  appear  fantastic  forms 
of  vases  and  animals,  into  which  the  boxwood 
bushes  are  trimmed.  The  effect  is  somewhat 
quaint  and  curious.  The  house  itself  is  adorned 
with  the  usual  magnificence,  showing  on  every 
side  polished  marbles  and  gilded  walls,  while  its 
collection  of  paintings  and  sculptures  is  one  of  the 
best  that  exists  in  Rome. 

It  was  in  the  Villa  Ludovici,  however,  that  the 
boys  took  the  deepest  interest.  The  grounds  here 
they  found  very  extensive  and  varied  ;  on  one  side 
they  saw  a  representation  of  the  English  style,  and 
on  the  other  the  French.  They  found  a  collection 
of  statuary  here  as  elsewhere,  which,  though  not 
so  large  as  that  of  the  Villa  Borghese,  was  yet  more 
select. 

The  last  of  the  villas  which  they  visited  was 
one  which  showed  a  greater  amount  of  dazzling 
and  ostentatious  luxury  than  any  of  the  rest. 
It  belonged  to  a  wealthy  family  named  Torlonia. 
The  head  of  this  family  sprang  from  very  low 
origin,  and  made  his  money  by  banking.  He 
finally   '  ecame   created  prince,   and    raised    this 


TOO    MUCH   SPLENDOR.  297 

edifice  in  order  to  assert  his  princely  dignity, 
and  liide  his  humble  origin  .  by  the  utmost 
magnificence.  But  in  this  ancient  city,  it  is  as 
hard  now  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Cicero  for 
a  novus  homo  to  make  his  way  among  the  old 
families,  and  the  sneers  with  which  such  a  man 
was  kept  back  by  the  ancient  patricians,  still 
mark  the  contempt  felt  for  all  outside  their  own 
circle  by  the  haughty  families  of  the  modern 
city.  Many  of  these  pretend  to  trace  their  do- 
scent  from  the  old  Roman  families ;  and  though 
such  a  claim  ,canno*^  be  successfully  maintained, 
it  nevertheless  shows  the  feelings  with  which 
they  regard  a  new  man,  like  Torlonia. 

The  Villa  Torlonia  is  surrounded  by  extensive 
grounds,  w^hich  are  adorned  by  lakes,  fountains, 
gardens,  grottos,  temples,  pavilions,  and  statues 
of  many  kinds,  while  in  the  mivlst  of  all  is  a 
circus.  In  the  villa  there  are  three  buildings, 
one  of  which  contains  a  theatre,  formed  after  the 
ancient  model. 

If  the  effect  of  their  visit  to  the  Vatican  had 
been  bewildering  to  the  boys,  th^ir  tour  among 
the  palaces  and  villas  of  Rome  was  no  less  so. 
The  succession  of  splendid  interiors,  with  marble 
pavements  and  gilded  roofs,  the  vast  number 
of  statues  and  pictures  which  met  their  eyes 
wherever  they  went,  the  constant  succession  also 
of  beautiful  gardens,  filled  with  everything  that 
could  dehght  the  taste  or  elicit  admiration,  —  ali 


298 


THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 


these  became  mingled  together  in  their  memories, 
and  out  of  so  great  a  mul  ude  of  attractive 
objects  but  a  few  would  be  recalled  afterwards. 
Among  those  which  they  most  admired  and  re- 
membered best,  were  the  statues  of  Pompey  and 
the  Dying  Gladiator,  and  the  picture  of  Beatrice 
Cenci. 


■■»  ',: 


VISITS  TO   THE  MUSEUMS  AND   VILLAS.         299 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

The  Lenten  Season.  —  The  manifold  Throtig  of  Visitors  and 
Pilgrims.  —  The  threefold  Charm  of  Rotnc.  —  The  End 
of  Lent.  —  Holy  Week.  —  A  vast  Crowd.  —  The  Pope's 
Blessing.  —  The  Illtimination  of  St.  Peter's.  —  Innumera- 
ble Lights. 

jHE  visits  which  the  boys  had  made  under 
the  guidance  of  Ludlow  to  the  palaces,  the 
museums,  and  the  villas  of  Rome,  occu- 
pied many  days.  They  were  made  in  a  desultory 
sort  of  a  way,  at  different  times,  so  as  to  suit 
Ludlow's  convenience ;  and  also  in  such  a  manner 
that  the  boys  themselves  might  not  be  too  much 
bored.  Yet  even  then,  when  they  had  a  judicious 
and  sympathetic. guide,  so  vast  was  the  number  of 
objects  to  be  seen,  so  varied  their  character,  so 
high  their  respective  claims  upon  their  attention, 
that,  as  we  have  seen,  the  larger  number  remained 
hopelessly  confused  in  their  memories,  and  out  of 
this  tangled  mass  there  remained  but  a  few  which 
they  could  recall  with  any  degree  of  exactness  ; 
ar.i  80  it  must  ever  be  with  the  casual  visitor  to 
Rome.  It  is  only  the  student,  only  the  one  who 
devotes  much  time  and  attention,  who  can  gain  real 


300  .  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

benefit  from  the  vast  and  varied  resources  of  this 
wonderful  city. 

Lent  had  now  arrived,  and  through  this  season 
they  went  from  time  to  time  with  Ludlow  and 
his  amiable  wife  to  visit  the  places  which  have 
been  briefly  alluded  to  in  the  preceding  chapters. 
This,  as  Ludlow  had  already  informed  them,  is  the 
greatest  season  of  Rome.  Strangers  come  hero 
from  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  the  majority  of 
them  reach  here  at  the  Carnival  time,  and  remain 
till  the  close  of  Holy  Week.  In  this  way  they 
contrive  to  be  present  at  two  grand  spectacles, 
the  one  at  the  beginning,  the  other  at  the  end  of 
their  visit.  Moreover,  this  is  the  time  when  Rome 
expects  strangers,  and  puts  on  her  brightest  attire 
to  do  tl^em  honor. 

There  is  a  threefold  power  in  Rome  which  draws 
three  different  classes  here,  in  addition  to  that 
great  crowd  of  idle  tourists  who  come  only  to  stare. 
The  one  is  the  charm  of  the  ancient  ruins,  where 
the  Past  sits  enthroned  amid  those  vast  monuments 
which  lie  along  the  seven  hills  around  the  circuit 
of  the  walls,  and  throughout  the  waste  Campagna. 
Another  is  the  charm  of  art,  which  lives,  and  moves, 
and  has  its  being  in  the  galleries  of  painting  and 
of  sculpture,  or  in  the  forms  of  vast  cathedrals  and 
noble  palaces.  The  third  is  the  charm  of  religion, 
which  finds  a  dwelling-place  in  the  three  hundred 
churches  of  Rome,  and  reaches  its  highest  glory 
during  the  solemn  ceremonies  of  the  Lmten  sea- 
son, or  the  celebrations  of  Holy  Week. 


STRANGERS   AND   VISITORS.  301 

And  80  there  flock  here  those  who  are  drawn 
by  one  or  tlie  other  of  these  three  resistless 
charms  —  the  scholar,  or  archreologist,  who  comes 
here  to  study  the  past,  and  to  wander  among  the 
ruins  of  Rome,  to  visit  all  the  ancient  landmarks, 
and  to  read  tlie  works  of  her  mighty  authors  amid 
the  scenes  tliat  once  surrounded  them,  —  the  artist, 
who  comes  to  gaze  upon  the  immortal  works  of  the 
fathers  of  modern  art;  to  viow  the  creations  of 
tlie  sublime  soul  of  Michael  Angelo,  or  the  pt  'feet 
beauty  that  was  bodied  forth  from  the  genius  of 
Raffaelle  ;  and,  finally,  the  devout  soul  who  comes 
to  kindle  anew  the  flame  of  religious  devotion,  to 
visit  the  places  made  sacred  by  the  memories  of 
the  martyrs,  to  witness  the  solemn  services  of  sub- 
lime cathedrals,  and  perhaps  to  strengthen  his 
own  faith  by  .a  visit  to  that  arena  where  so  many 
martyrs  died,  or  those  Catacombs  where  so  many 
martyrs  are  buried. 

All  these  the  boys  met  with  as  they  visited  place 
after  place ;  as  they  traversed  the  seven  hills  of 
Rome  ;  as  they  wandered  after  Ludlow  through  its 
palaces  ;  or  as  they  visited  anew  the  churches  and 
cathedrals.  When  they  had  first  arrived  they 
noticed  many  who  seemed,  like  themselves,  stran- 
gers and  visitors ;  but  every  week  that  they  staid 
seemed  to  bring  a  fresh  number,  and  the  crowd  of 
those  who  strolled  through  the  ancient  forum,  or 
filled  the  galleries,  or  stared  at  the  churches, 
seemed  to  increase  with  every  succeeding  day. 


302  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

"  Rome  appears  busy  enongli  now,"  said  Ludlow 
to  them,  "  but  after  IToly  Week  it  is  all  changed. 
All  these  visitors  take  to  flight.  After  Holy  Week 
no  one  comes.  This  isn't  on  account  of  Holy  Week 
in  particular,  but  because  the  weather  generally 
grows  hot  after  Easter ;  and  with  the  hot  weatlier 
the  dreaded  malaria  makes  its  appearance.  This 
malaria  is  hard  enough  on  the  Romans  ;  but  for 
foreigners,  or  even  for  Italians  from  other  parts, 
it's  almost  the  same  as  death.  During  all  the  sum- 
mer months  Rome  looks  almost  as  dead  as  Pompeii. 
I've  put  a  summer  through  her,  —  and,  for  that 
matter,  most  of  the  foreign  artists  do, —  and  I 
managed,  by  means  of  great  care,  to  fight  off  the 
malaria ;  but  I  shouldn't  particularly  care  to  pass 
another  summer.  It  don't  pay  in  the  long  run,  and 
is  apt  to  undermine  a  fellow's  constitution.  My 
idea  of  life  would  be  to  winter  in  Rome,  and  clear 
out  in  the  summer  to  Norway." 

"  What,  and  wouldn't  you  ever  go  to  America?" 
asked  Clive. 

"  0,  of  course,"  said  Ludlow ;  "  I  was  merely 
speaking  as  an  artist,  not  as  a  man.  I  merely 
spoke  from  a  professional  point  of  view.  If  I  were 
independent,  and  all  that,  or  if  I  were  a  merchant, 
or  a  lawyer,  or  a  doctor,  or  a  minister,  or  anything 
else  than  what  I  am,  I  should  live  in  America;  but 
being  an  artist,  I  have  to  live  in  Italy,  —  at  least 
just  now,  —  where  there  is  so  much  for  me  to 
study." 


HOLT  WEEK.  303 

"Well,  then,"  said  Clive,  "I  rather  think  an 
artist's  I'fe  would  never  suit  me." 

"  0,  no,  I  dare  say  not,"  said  Ludlow  j  "  it  don't 
suit  the  generality  of  people." 

The  Lenten  season  pasf^ed  amid  occupations  like 
these,  and  th'f  boys  formed  a  much  closer  acquaint- 
ance with  Rome  than  usually  falls  to  the  lot  of 
visitors,  whether  boys  or  men. 

At  length  Holy  Week  came. 

This  is  the  end  of  Lent,  and  all  the  solemn  ser- 
vices which  have  marked  that  sacred  season  are 
intensified,  and  gathered  up  in  a  few  days.  All 
this  goes  on  increasing  until  the  end. 

At  length  the  last  day  came. 

They  were  with  Ludlow  on  that  day.  He  and 
his  wife  were  going  to  see  the  grand  concluding 
ceremonies,  and,  as  usual,  invited  the  boys.  Uncle 
Moses  had  generally  remained  at  home  when  the 
boys  went  with  Ludlow,  transferring  to  him  the  re- 
sponsibility of  watching  ov^r  them ;  but  on  this 
occasion  he  summoned  up  all  his  curiosity  and  all 
his  energies,  and  went  forth  with  them. 

In  the  piazza  of  St.  Peter's,  the  great  place  in 
front  of  the  mighty  cathedral,  enclosed  by  the 
sweep  of  its  colonnades,  it  seemed  as  though  all 
Rome  and  all  the  concourse  of  visitors  had  as- 
sembled. Far  on  high,  from  the  centre  of  the 
place,  arose  the  Egyptian  obelisk,  —  an  uiibroken 
shaft  of  red  granite,  —  which  for  eighteen  centuries 
had  watched  the  changing  fortunes  of  Rome.     On 


301  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

either  side  of  tho  obelisk  mighty  fountains  throw 
into  the  air  jets  of  water  a  hundred  feet  high. 
Before  them  arose  the  face  of  the  cathedral,  and 
beyond  this  the  matchless  dome  towered  aloft  into 
the  skies. 

There  was  a  roar  of  a  great  acclamation,  followed 
by  instantaneous  silence.  A  party  suddenly  ap- 
peared at  a  balcony,  in  tho  front  of  the  cathedral, 
immediately  over  the  central  door. 

*•  It's  the  pope  and  his  council,"  said  Ludlow. 

They  were  too  far  away  to  see  the  faces ;  hut 
they  saw  one  figure  stand  forward,  and  stretch  out 
his  hand  as  if  to  bless.  Immediately  the  immense 
crowd  fell  on  their  knees,  with  the  exception  of 
those  who  seemed  like  strangers.  These,  either 
through  ignorance,  or,  as  was  more  probable, 
through  scruples  of  conscience,  refused  to  bow  the 
knee ;  and  with  these  Ludlow,  and  the  boys,  and 
Uncle  Moses  remained  standing.  But  those  who 
knelt  made  no  objections  to  others  standing,  nor 
did  they  even  appear  to  notice  it.  Once  it  was 
not  so ;  but  the  world  has.  become  tolerant,  and 
Rome  has  followed  the  example  of  the  world. 

Evening  came  on  swii'tly,  the  short  evening  of 
tho  south,  where  there  is  scarcely  any  twilight, 
but  where  light  is  transformed,  with  startling  rapid- 
ity, into  darkness.  The  slow  change  of  northern 
climes ;  the  prolongation  of  light,  which  seems  loath 
to  leave  ;  the  gradual  advance  of  darkness,  which 
seems  to  be  resisted  and  driven  back  by  many 


ILLUMINATION  OP  ST.   PETER'S.  305 

obstacles ;  the  mellow  lessening  day ;  tlio  sweet 
gloaming,  —  these  had  no  place  here;  but  with 
startling  abruptness  the  mighty  mass  of  St.  Peter'a 
retreated  into  darkness,  until  at  last  its  outline 
was  but  dimly  and  obscurely  visible.  But  the 
crowd  had  long  before  risen  from  their  knees,  and 
now  stood  watching. 

Suddenly  a  change  came. 

It  was  along  the  noble  colonnades  that  encircle 
the  piazza  of  St.  Peter's.  Here  lights  began  to 
flash  forth.  One  after  the  other  they  burst  into 
view ;  one  after  the  other,  row  upon  row,  rank  be- 
hind rank,  until  the  flames  ran  on  up  to  the  very 
cathedral  itself. 

Now  the  cathedral  itself  caught  the  glow  of  this 
illumination.  Along  the  front  the  lights  passed 
rapidly,  flashing  on  in  line  after  lino,  from  point  to 
point,  from  pinnacle  to  pinnacle.  Then  the  lofty 
columns  stood  marked  in  living  light,  and  the  por- 
tals below,  and  the  apostolic  statues  above. 

The  lights  passed  on.  They  swept  over  all  the 
front :  they  strove  to  rise  higher.  Now  the  roof 
tJirew  forth  a  glare,  and  around  the  base  of  the 
central  dome  and  the  side  domes  they  began  to 
make  their  appearance.  Soon  the  smaller  domes 
were  all  aglow,  and  around  the  mighty  central 
dome  —  the  dome  of  Michael  Angelo  —  their  last 
progress  was  watched.  Here  they  flashed  along 
in  line  upon  line,  in  row  after  row,  encircling  the 
vast  structure,  rising  higher  and  higher  every  mo- 

20 


30G  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

mont.  Up  tlio  domo  tlioro  ran  myriads  of  sparks ; 
for  from  below  each  lijjfht  seemed  like  a  spark  ap- 
proacliiug  nearer  and  nearer  to  its  sunnnit.  Tlioy 
flashed  on.  They  reached  tlio  sunnnit.  They 
climbed  np  tlio  lantern.  They  sparkled  on  tho 
ball.  Higher  yet  they  flamo  forth  from  the  very 
uppermost  point,  and  make  the  very  cross  itself  a 
sign  of  glory. 

And  so  at  last  tho  groat  illumination  is  complete ; 
and  St.  Peter's,  with  all  its  colonnades,  and  all  its 
mighty  front,  and  all  the  colossal  statues  that  keep 
vigil  on  its  roof,  with  all  its  lesser  domes ;  and 
high  over  all,  tho  towering  majesty  of  the  great 
dome  itself,  up  to  its  highest  point,  stood  revealed, 
with  every  outline  marked  by  a  line  of  light,  and 
every  curve  and  every  eminence  indicated  by  a 
track  of  flame. 

There  were  wonder  and  hush  among  the  crowd 
of  spectators.  They  looked  on  in  silent  admira- 
tion. The  matchless  spectacle  blazed  before  them, 
and  sight  was  so  occupied  that  there  was  no  room 
for  voice. 

At  lengtli  tho  lights  began  to  expire.  First,  the 
colonnades  faded  out  of  sight;  then  the  front  of 
the  cathedral ;  then  the  lines  of  the  roof;  then  the 
lower  cupolas  ;  then  the  great  dome.  Last  of  all, 
the  lights  flickered  about  the  cross ;  but  at  lengtli 
even  those  flickered  away,  and  over  all  the  scene 
darkness  once  more  resumed  its  sway. 

The  crowd  still  waited. 


FIBEWORKS.  807 

Suddenly  rockets  flashed  into  the  air,  Bucceeded 
by  a  great  display  of  fireworks.  These  all  came 
from  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo.  Finally,  from  the 
same  castle  came  the  report  of  a  gun. 

At  this  the  crowd  began  to  disperse,  and  with 
the  crowd  Ludlow,  and  the  boys,  and  Uncle  Moses 
returned  to  their  lodgings. 

All  was  over. 


308  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A  Discussion.  — Holy  Week  versus  the  Glorious  Fourth.— 
St.  Peter's  and  Boston  State  House.  —  Patriotism.— 
Sudden  Interruption.  —  Painful  Discovery.  —  Most  embar- 
rassing Situation.-  Perplexity  of  the  .Boys.  ^ Despair 
of  Uncle  Moses. 

NCE  more  in  their  lodgings,  the  boys  all 
began  to  discuss  the  great  illumination,  and 
to  compare  it  with  all  the  other  things  of 
the  same  class  which  they  had  ever  seen.  In  the 
course  of  their  experience  they  had  witnessed 
fireworks  of  a  very  excensive  character,  and  the 
patriotism  of  Bob  was  too  sturdy  to  yield  a  point 
without  a  struggle,  for  he  rather  sought  to  main- 
tain that  som3  of  the  Fourth  of  July  fireworks 
which  he  had  seen  at  home  were  equal  to  this. 

"  Pooh !  "  said  David,  "  that  is  all  fudge.  Leaving 
aside  the  fireworks,  where  can  you  find  such  an- 
otlier  building  as  St.  Peter's?  " 

"  But  it  isn't  St.  Peter's,"  said  Bob,  "  it's  the 
illumination  that  I  speak  of.  i  won't  leave  aside 
fireworks,  for  that's  the  whole  point." 

"  Where  did  you  ever  before  see  a  million  lamps 
hung  out  at  once  ?  "  said  Clive. 


A  DISCUSSION.  309 

"Lamps !  "  said  Bob;  "  what  are  lamps  ?  They're 
not  equal,  after  all,  to  good  old-foshioned  rockets." 

"  They  had  rockets  at  St.  Peter's." 

"  Yes,  a  few.'  But  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you 
liked  them  as  much  as  one  of  our  first-class  fire- 
works, where  they  have  rockets,  and  Koman  can- 
dles, and  serpents,  and  roses,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing?  The  fact  is,  this  illumination  was  done 
with  lamps.  Now,  I  prefer  them  done  with 
powder." 

"  If  I  had  such  taste,  I  should  be  ashamed  to 
confess  it,"  said  Clive,  somewhat  contemptuously. 
"There's  nothing  in  all  the  world  equal  to  the 
illumination  of  St.  Peter's." 

"  But  that's  the  very  point  that  we  were  ar- 
guing," said  Bob.  "  You're  begging  the  whole 
question." 

"  These  Fourth  of  July  fireworks  are  so  terribly 
vulgar,"  said  David. 

"I  deny  it,"  said  Bob.  "They're  not  vulgar. 
They're  tip-top.     Now,  ain't  they,  Frank  ?  " 

Upon  this  appeal,  Frank  at  once  sided  with  Bob, 
not  because  he  actually  thought  as  he  did,  but  on 
the  principle  of  siding  with  the  weaker  party. 

"  Of  course  they  are,"  said  he,  "  first  rate.  It's 
all  very  well  for  them  to  sneer,  bat  I've  seen  the 
time  when  they've  been  ready  to  jump  out  of  their 
skins  with  excitement  over  those  very  fireworks 
that  they  now  call  vulgar.  Now,  for  my  part,  I 
don't  feel  at  all  inclined  to  sneer  at  the  iilumina^ 


310  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

tion  of  St.  Peter's.  I  think  jt  was  all  very  well  of 
its  kind  ;  but  to  compare  it  with  one  of  our  first- 
class  Fourtli  of  July  affairs,  is  quite  out  of  the 
question,  quite." 

"  I  should  think  it  was/'  cried  David,  indig- 
nantly. 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  Frank.  ''  You  might  as 
well  compare  an  oil  lamp  with  a  sky-rocket." 

"Why,  what's  the  use  of  talking?"  said  Clive, 
'  impatiently.  "  You  might  as  well  compare  St.  Pe- 
ter's with  the  Boston  State  House.  Yes,  I  dare  say 
Bob  and  Frank  would  each  stick  up  for  Boston." 

"  Well,"  said  Bob,  "  even  the  lamps  were  not 
much.  Why  didn't  they  use  gas,  or  even  parafine  ? 
They're  a  slow  set  here ;  they  can't  think  of  any- 
thing better  than  oil." 

"  And  then,"  said  Frank,  "  to  think  of  comparing 
it  with  powder  I  " 

"  Why,  it's  absurd,"  continued  Bob  ;  "  you  might 
as  well  compare  cold  tea  with  soda  water." 

"  Yes,  or  hard  cider  with  champagne." 

"  D,  go  on,  go  on,"  said  David.  "  Keep  it 
up.  For  my  part,  I  think  it's  the  worst  sort  of 
cockneyism  for  a  fellow  never  to  admire  anything 
that  he  sees  in  other  countries,  and  to  think  that 
his  own  home  surpasses  the  rest  of  the  world  in 
everything." 

"  There  are  some  things,  Dave,"  said  Frank,  "  in 
which  Italy  certainly  surpasses  the  United  States. 
One  of  them  is  old  ruins ;  another   is   churches 


HOLY  WEEK  AND  FOURTH  OF  JULY.     311 

and  cathedrals ;  but  "v^liy  any  one  should  try  to 
make  out  tliat  Italy  surpasses  us  in  everything 
7S  more  than  I  can  understand.  For  my  part,  I  main- 
tain that  we  beat  Italy  in  several  particulars,  and 
among  them  are  sewing-machines,  mowing-ma- 
chines, and  fireworks." 

"  Yes,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  in  an  amiable 
voice,  taking  part  now  in  this  discussion  for  the 
sake  of  officiating  as  peacemaker.  "  That's  it ; 
each  country  has  its  own  specialty.  Italy  has  its 
old  bones  and  old  stones  ;  America  has  its  machines 
and  inventions ;  and  so,  boys,"  he  continued,  ris- 
ing from  his  chair,  "  perhaps  we'd  better  let  this 
discussion  die  out  here,  more  especially  as  I'm 
beginning  to  feel  kin  o'  worried  about  a  matter 
that's  been  on  my  mind  ever  since  we  got  home." 

As  he  said  this,  he  looked  scrutinizingly  all  about 
the  room,  and  felt  all  his  pockets. 

"  That's  jest  what  I  ben  a  doin  ever  since  I  left 
St.  Peter's,"  said  he,  still  feeling  his  pockets.  "I've 
gone  through  them  all,  an  I  can't  find  nary  sign 
of  it." 

"  Find  what?'^  asked  Bob.  "What  have  you  lost, 
Uncle  Moses?    Your  handkerchief?" 

"  Handkerchief!  "  exclaimed  Uncle  Moses ;  "  no, 
sir.     I  only  wish  it  was.     It's  my  purse." 

"  Your  purse  !  " 

"  Yes,  my  purse  ;  it's  a  wallet  of  brown  leather 
—  I  s'pose  none  of  youns  have  seen  it  lyin  around 
in  some  odd  corner." 


312  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

"  Your  purse  !  "  exclaimed  Frank.  "  Why,  no. 
Do  you  really  mean  that  you've  lost  it?  Did  it 
have  much  inside  of  it  ?  " 

"  Much  inside  of  it  1  "  cried  Uncle  Moses,  mourn- 
fully.  '*  Why,  it  hed  every  cent  of  money  that 
we've  got  to  travel  on." 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  really  lost 
it?"   said  David. 

"  Wal,  railly,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  timidly,  "  that's 
the  very  thing  that  I'm  afeard  on  just  now." 

At  this  alarming  intelligence  the  boys  forgot 
everything  else,  and  stared  at  one  another  with 
faces  full  of  grave  concern. 

"  When  did  you  first  miss  it  ?  "  asked  Frank,  at 
length. 

"  Wal,  I  missed  it  from  my  pocket  fust  up  in 
the  crowd  at  St.  Peter's." 

"  In  the  crowd  at  St.  Peter's  I  "  repeated  Frank. 
"  Why  didn't  you  say  something  about  it?  " 

"  Wal,  you  see,  1  kin  o'  thought  that  I  might 
have  left  it  home  here  on  the  table." 

"  Where  did  you  have  it  last  in  your  hands?" 

"  In  this  here  room.  I  had  it  in  my  pocket,  an 
then  I  had  it  on  the  table  to  look  at  the  papers, 
an  after  that  I  don't  mind  exactly  whether  I  put 
it  back  again  in  my  pocket  or  not." 

"  Well,  if  you  put  it  back  in  your  pocket,  and 
then  went  up  into  the  midst  of  that  crowd,  your 
pocket  was  probably  picked." 

''That  thar's  just  about  what  I'm  afeard  on,"  said 


PAINFUL  DISCOVERY.  313 

Uncle  Moses,  with  a  sickly  smile.  "  It  was  a  pooty 
thick  crowd,  an  I  dar  say  thar  were  lots  of  pick- 
pockets thar.  That's  the  very  fust  thing  I  thoiiglit 
on.  Ye  see,  as  soon  as  I  felt  myself  inside  that  thar 
crowd  I  recollected  my  purse,  and  felt  anxious  for 
fear  I'd  lose  it.  So  I  clapped  my  hands  over  my 
pocket  so  as  to  guard  my  pocket-book,  an  suddenly 
found  it  was  gone.  It  wan't  thar.  I  declar,  I 
never  felt  so  cut  up  an  taken  aback  in  all  my  born 
days.  I  couldn't  bar  to  thhik  of  it.  I  didn't  dar 
to  speak  of  it.  I  don't  remember  seein  a  thing  of 
all  that  happened  after  I  found  the  purse  was  gone. 
The  wust  of  it  was,  my  handkerchief  was  left." 

"  Your  handkerchief! "  exclaim.ed  Frank.  "  Why, 
Uncle  Moses,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  carried 
your  purse  and  your  handkerchief  in  the  same 
pocket  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Uncle  Moses ;  "  in  my  coat-tail 
pocket." 

"  Your  coat  tail  1 "  cried  Frank.  "  Why,  it's  tempt- 
ing Providence.     It's  throwing  your  money  away." 

"  Wal,  I've  alius  done  it  all  my  life,"  said  Uncle 
Moses,  "  an  it  comes  kin  o'  natral  to  keep  my  wal- 
let thar.  Tain't  easy  to  change  a  habit  when  you 
get  as  old  as  I  be." 

"Well,  it's  gone,  any  way,"  said  Frank.  "There's 
no  doubt  of  it.  Your  pocket  was  picked  by  some 
one  in  the  crowd." 

"  That's  what  I'm  afeard  of,"  said  Uncle  Moses, 
mournfully.     "I  did  hope  for  a  time  that  I  might 


314  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

find  it  lyin  on  the  table  here  when  I  got  home, 
but  it  ain't  here,  an  I  don't  seem  to  see  it  any. 
whars  around." 

"  0,  it's  gone,  it's  lost  I "  said  Frank ;  "  and  now 
what  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  rather  think,"  said  David,  "  that  this  will 
make  some  diflference  in  our  plans." 

"  We  certainly  won't  be  able  to  leave  Rome  to- 
morrow," said  Clive. 

"  My  idea,"  said  Bob,  "  is  to  go  to  the  police 
at  once  and  see  if  they  can't  put  us  on  the  track 
of  the  thief." 

"  0,  that  won't  be  any  use,"  said  Frank.  "  The 
police  can't  do  anything." 

"  Don't  you  believe  the  half  of  that,"  said  Bob. 
"  The  police  have  their  spies  everywhere,  and  know 
everything  that's  going  on." 

"We've  got  to  do  something,"  said  Uncle  Moses, 
"  and  pooty  soon  too  ;  for  the  landlord'll  be  bringin 
in  his  bill,  an  I  hain't  the  smallest  idea  how  I'm 
goin  to  pay  it." 

"  How  was  the  money  ? "  asked  Frank.  "  It 
couldn't  all  have  been  coin.  Some  of  it  was  in 
drafts,  of  course." 

"O,  yes." 

"  Well,  can't  payment  be  stopped  on  the 
drafts?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  dar  say  it  might  if  I  only 
knowed  how  to  go  about  it,  an  if  I  only  had  money 
to  go  about  on." 


PERPLEXITY   OF  THE  BOYS.  315 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  the  fust  thing  for  ns  to  do 
is  to  have  the  payment  of  the  drafts  stopped." 

"  The  fust  thing  that  I  want  to  do,"  said  Uncle 
Moses,  in  a  dismal  voice,  *'is  to  pay  this  here  hotel 
hill  that's  impendin  over  us.  That's  the  fust 
thing;  and  the  next  thing  is  to  pay  our  fare  to 
Florence.  I  don't  see  but  what  we'll  have  to  wait 
somewhars  for  money.  I'll  write  home  at  once  for 
more,  but  I  can't  wait  here  in  Rome.  I'm  sick  of 
the  place.  We  must  go  on  as  we  decided,  an  I 
s'pose  Florence's  the  handiest  place  for  our  pur- 
poses." 

"  Well,  but  that's  the  very  thing  that  we  can't 
do,"  said  Frank.  "  If  we've  lost  our  money,  how 
can  we  leave  Rome  and  reach  Florence.  No, 
we'll  have  to  wait  here,  and  in  the  hot  weather 
too  :  that'll  be  rather  hard.  For  it's  going  to  be 
hot  after  this,  and  everybody's  leaving." 

"  How  long'll  it  take  to  write  home  and  get  an 
answer?"    asked  Bob. 

"  0,  about  eight  weeks,"  said  Frank. 

"And  do  you  mean  to  sny  that  we'll  have  to 
stop  here  all  that  time,  —  eight  weeks,  —  eight 
weeks  here,  in  Rome  ?  " 

Bob's  voice  v/as  full  of  horror,  as  if  the  idea  was 
too  much  for  him. 

"I  don't  see  how  we  can  help  it."  said  Frank. 
"  I  don't  suppose  that  we  can  get  any  money  ad- 
vanced by  any  one.  This  difficulty  is  one  in 
which  even  the  almighty  American  minister  can't 
be  expected  to  help  us." 


316  THE  SEVEN   UILLS. 

''  I  should  think  ho  might/'  said  Bob. 

"How?" 

"  0,  wo  can  tell  him  who  we  aro,  and  all  that, 
and  perhaps  he'll  lend  us  tho  money." 

"  Pooh  I  "  said  Frank. 

"  Well,  for  my  part,"  said  David,  "  I  can't  say 
I  object  to  the  idea  of  staying  longer  in  Rome. 
I  should  like  to  spend  a  year  here  if  I  could,  and  I 
feel  disappointed  at  the  idea  of  leaving  so  soon. 
Of  course  I'm  sorry  about  the  money,  and  the 
trouble  that  you  all  are  in ;  but  as  to  staying 
longer  in  Rome,  I  should  like  it  above  all  things." 

"  So  should  I !  "  exclaimed  Clive. 

At  this  Bob  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  made 
a  grimace  in  the  Neapolitan  fashion. 

"  Well,"  said  Frank,  "  there's  every  probabihty 
that  you'll  be  gratified,  For  my  part,  I've  had 
enough  of  it,  and  should  prefer  to  get  on  to  Flor- 
ence and  Venice ;  but  if  I  have  to  stay  here,  why, 
all  I  can  say  is,  that  I'll  try  to  put  up  with  my  hard 
lot.  Only,  I  must  say,  I  wish  that  it  was  a  little 
earlier  in  the  season  than  it  is." 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "I'm  dreadful 
sorry  for  this  unfortunit  casoolty.  Seems  to  me 
it's  the  wust  that's  happened  to  us  yet  among  all 
our  troubles  hitherto,  for  money's  the  sinoos  of  war, 
an  the  one  thing  needful  in  travel.  Without 
money  we  are  stopped  short,  an  come  to  a  dead 
stand.  I  think,  too,  that  I  quite  agree  with  Bob, 
an  don't  feel  overly  fond  of  Rome.    Tain't  my 


DESPAIR   OF   UNCLE  MOSES.  317 

style.  I  ain't  felt  altogether  to  liomo  here,  an 
don't  feel  to  set  much  store  by  it.  In  fact,  I  want 
to  clear  out  for  g  ^d,  never  to  see  it  again,  an  the 
sooner  the  better.  I  can't  bar  the  idee  of  havin 
to  v/ait.  I  feel  as  though  I  should  die.  I  hope 
yet  to  hit  upon  some  way  of  gettin  money  enough 
to  go  to  Florence,  even  if  I  can't  find  my  purse. 
1  don't  mind  waitin  ^h  a  new  place  for  remittances." 

"  Perhaps  your  bankers  might  let  you  have 
some  money,"  said  Frank." 

Uncle  Moses  shook  his  head. 

"  'Taiu't  likely,"  said  he.  "  People  ain't  so  very 
apt  to  accommodate  strangers,  and  of  all  men  the 
least  accommodative  air  bankers  —  that's  so." 

"  0, 1  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Frank.  "  Your 
bankers  have  had  advices,  of  course,  that  a  draft 
is  coming  to  them  in  your  name,  and  they  will, 
no  doubt,  be  inclined  to  believe  your  story,  and 
accommodate  you." 

"  Don't  believe  it,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  in  a  posi- 
tive tone,  shaking  his  head  decidedly  ;  "  don't  be- 
lieve a  word  of  it ;  never  heard  anything  like  it." 

"  And  so  we  can't  tell  what  we're  going  to  do," 
said   Bob. 

Uncle  Moses  shook  his  head. 

"  At  any  rate,  we  can't  go  to  Florence  to- 
morrow." 

Bob  gave  a  groan. 

"  Another  day  in  Rome,"  said  he ;  "  what  will  be- 
come of  us  ?    Can't  wo  raise  money  enough  to  get 


318  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

out  of  this?     I'll  sell  all  I  have  —  my  watch,  my 
breastpin,  yes,  the  very  clothes  off  my  back." 

"  Come,  Bob,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  don't  fret. 
Cheer  up.  I  tliink  we'd  best  all  get  off  to  bed. 
It's  dreadful  late.  P'aps  somethin'll  turn  up  in 
the  night.  P'aps  we'll  dream  of  somethin,  or  tiiink 
of  some  way  of  gettin  along  At  any  rate,  there 
ain't  much  use  a  frettin  our  lives  out  at  this  late 
hour  of  the  night." 

With  these  words  Uncle  Moses  took  a  light,  and 
throwing  a  last  parting  glance  around,  he  heaved 
a  melancholy  sigh,  and  departed  to  his  virtuous 
couch.  Frank  and  Bob  followed  soon  after.  Da- 
vid and  Clive  still  lingered. 

"  Queer,  too  —  isn't  it  ?  "  said  David. 

"  What  is  ?  " 

"  Why,  this  loss  of  the  wallet." 
•    "Yes." 

.''  Well,  I  don't  regret  it." 

"  No,  nor  I." 

^'  We'll  have  some  time  longer,  and  there  are  a 
dozen  places  that  I  want  to  see." 

"  So  do  I." 

"  Have  you  any  choice  ?  " 

"Well,  no,  not  in  particular.  The  fact  is,  I 
want  to  see  them  all  equally.  Perhaps  the  old 
barracks  of  the  Praetorian  Guards  would  be  about 
the  most  to  my  taste." 

"  The  very  place.  We'll  go  there.  Let^s  set 
out  early." 


FURTHER  VISITS.  319 

"  Well." 

"  Why,  I  wouldn't  miss  visiting  that  placo  for 
anything.  The  walls  there  are  said  to  bo  most 
interesting." 

"  Yes,  the  most  ancient  too,  and  best  pro- 
served." 

"  I  suppose  we'll  have  plenty  of  time." 

"  0,  yes.  W  e  may  really  have  to  wait  hero 
eight  weeks  yet,  you  know  ;  and  oven  at  the  very 
shortest  Uncle  Moses  will  have  to  spend  two  or 
throe  days  more." 

"  Well,  I  don't  caro :  the  more  the  better,  say  I." 

"  And  I  too." 

"  Well,  come.  Let's  be  off  to  bed,  for  wo  ought 
to  be  up  early  to-morrow,  and  do  our  walking  in 
the  cool  of  the  day." 

With  these  words  these  two  retired,  and  fol- 
lowed their  friends  to  bed. 


320  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

An  early  Wakentnf^.  —  The  Pra;torian  Barracks. —  The 
friendly  Cicerone.  —  The  Chamber  full  of  Kclics.  —  Won- 
derful Souvenirs  of  the  Past.  —  An  extensible  Purchase. 
— A  Discovery.  —  Grand  Explanation.  —  Farewell  to  the 
Seven  Hills. 

AVID  and  Clive  awaked  early  on  the  follow- 
ing morning,  and  their  first  thoughts  turned 
to  the  events  of  the  evening  before.  Tliey 
found  that  Uncle  Moses  had  passed  a  sleepless 
night,  in  which  the  time  had  been  passed  between 
fruitless  efforts  to  conjecture  what  had  become  of 
the  money,  and  speculations  as  to  the  best  way  of 
grappling  with  the  present  difficulty.  All  these, 
however,  were  fruitless,  and  the  dawn  of  another 
day  found  the  unfortunate  man  exhausted  by  his 
night's  vigil,  and  quite  at  a  loss  as  to  his  future 
proceedings.  Pie  was  already  dressed  and  shaved 
when  David  and  Clive  made  their  appearance. 

"  Where  are  you  going  to,  uncle?  "  they  asked. 

Uncle  Moses  looked  sad. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  know  as  I  can  say  that 
I'm  goin  any  whar  in  partiklar.  I  ben  tryin  to 
think   whar  I  could   have   lost   the   wallet,  an  I 


THE   PRAETORIAN   BARRACKS.  321 

thought  I'd  kin  o'  meander  round,  and  p*ap8  I'd  turn 
it  up  somewliar.  Ef  I  ain^t  back  in  time  for  break- 
fast you  boys  needn't  wait  for  me." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  yet  about  it?  "  asked  Clive. 

"  Wal  —  not  to  say  an  idee,"  replied  ITncle 
Moses,  "but  I've  got  p  hope  that  somethin  may 
turn  up  if  1  keep  muvin  about." 

This  was  certainly  a  very  frail  ground  for  re- 
liance in  such  a  difliculty  as  their  present  one,  but 
there  was  nothing  else,  and  so  Uncle  Moses 
turned  away  in  melancholy  silence.  David  and 
Clive  remained  in  the  house  a  little  longer.  Uncle 
Moses  went  off  on  his  hopeless  errand.  Frank 
and  Bob  were  still  sound  asleep. 

"  Well,"  said  Clive, "  we  are  up  in  good  time, 
and  if  you  still  feel  inclined  .for  the  Prtetorian 
Barracks,  we  may  as  well  start." 

"  0,  I  feel  as  eager  to  go  as  ever." 

"  So  do  I ;  but  don't  you  think  we're  a  little  too 
early?" 

"  0,  no,  I  guess  not ;  I  dare  say  we'll  find  the 
place  open,  and  we'll  only  have  to  look  around  by 
ourselves.  It  isn't  as  though  it  was  some  church 
or  museum."  , 

"  Shall  we  get  something  to  eat  now,  or  wait  till 
we  get  back  ?  " 

"  0,  we'll  wait ;  we'll  enjoy  it  better.  It's  too 
early  yet  by  far." 

"Very  well ;  let's  be  off,  then." 

With  these  words   the  two   set  forth  for  the 


322  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

Praetorian  Barracks,  and  after  about  an  hour's 
walk  found  themselves  at  their  destination. 

The  Praetorian  Barracks  are  in  the  line  of  the 
wall  of  the  city  which  was  made  to  enclose  tjiem. 
All  that  remains  of  them  at  this  day  is  this  en- 
closing portion  of  the  city  wall.  This  wall  is 
undoubtedly  as  old  as  the  time  of  the  Emperor 
Severus,  and  perhaps  may  reach  back  to  that  of 
the  twelve  Ctesars.  Other  portions  of  the  city 
wall  have  been  demolished  at  different  times,  and 
rebuilt  during  different  ages,  but  the  fame  of  this 
enclosure  is  so  peculiar  that  it  is  beyond  a  doubt 
the  same  wall  unchanged  that  was  first  erected 
here  under  the  emperors.  The  wall  is  built  of 
those  small  biicks  peculiar  to  many  ancient  edifices 
in  Rome.  It  is  between  thirty  and  forty  feet  high, 
and  in  it  there  are  arched  chambers  resembling 
the  bomb-proof  casemates  of  modern  fortifications. 
These  chambers  once  formed  the  barracks  of  the 
Praetorian  Guards,  and  there  were,  undoubtedly, 
other  edifices  in  the  neighborhood  giving  larger 
accommodation. 

This  was  the  place  which  David  and  Clive  had 
wished  to  visit  and  inspect.  The  sight  of  it  in 
part  disappointed  them,  while  it  in  part  gratified 
them.  They  were  disappointed  at  finding  no  ves- 
tiges of  barracks,  except  such  chambers  as  had 
been  built  in  the  city  wall  itself,  while  they  were 
gratified  at  finding  so  many  of  these  chambers  in 
that  enclosure. 


THE  FRIENDLY  CICERONE.         323 

It  was  early  morning  on  their  arrival  here,  and 
consequently  no  visitors  were  there  besides  them- 
selves. It  was  not,  however,  too  early  for  those 
people  who  gain  a  living  by  acting  as  guides 
to  places  of  interest,  or  exhibiters  of  buildings 
and  monuments.  On  account  of  their  voljubility 
and  eloquence  they  are  called  by  the  name  of  tht 
greatest  of  Roman  orators,  and  the  Italian  Cicerone 
is  one  of  the  most  familiar  of  Italian  institutions. 
One  of  these  was  already  in  the  place  as  Clive 
and  David  reached  it,  and  after  a  few  approaches 
he  accosted  them.  It  was  not  their  practice  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  services  of  guides  except 
on  special  occasions,  but  the  present  instance 
seemed  to  justify  them  in  engaging  the  Cicerone 
before  them.  He  spoke  English  very  well,  and 
poured  forth  his  information  with  all  the  volubility 
and  fulness  which  distinguishes  his  tribe. 

He  led  them  all  about  the  place.  He  gave  them 
the  fullest  possible  information  as  to  the  exvent  of 
the  wail,  the  number  of  chambers,  and  the  size  of 
each.  He  gave  a  brief  outlliio  of  the  history  of 
the  Prcetorian  Guards,  and  their  connection  with 
the  rise  and  fall  of  several  emperors,  and  men- 
tioned many  interesting  relics  which  had  been  ex- 
humed in  this  spot  and  transferred  to  the  chiof 
museums  of  Rome.  Finally  he  informed  them  that 
he  himself,  in  the  course  of  a  lifetime  spent  among 
these  ruins,  had  found  a  large  number  of  most  in- 
teresting relics  of  the  past,  which  he  was  willing 
to  dispose  of  on  the  most  reasonable  terms. 


324  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

This  intelligence  gave  the  highest  satisfaction  to 
the  two  boys,  who,  as  has  been  seen,  were  always 
very  eager  to  procure  relics  of  all  kinds,  from  all 
directions,  ana  had  more  than  once  run  some  consid- 
erable risks  in  the  endeavor  to  gratify  their  taste. 
The  appearance  of  a  man  like  this,  who  had  him- 
self exhumed  treasures  of  the  past  from  the  dust 
of  Rome,  seemed  to  each  of  them  to  be  a  most 
fortunate  thing,  and  they  at  once  expressed  the 
utmost  eagerness  to  see  what  he  had. 

Upon  this  the  Cicerone  took  them  to  a  cell  in 
the  line  of  chambers,  the  front  of  which  was  rudely 
boarded  up.  Here  there  was  a  door,  which  he 
.proceeded  to  unlock.  Then  entering,  he  motioned 
to  the  boys  to  follow.  On  doing  so  they  found 
themselves  inside  of  a  chamber,  which  was  pre- 
cisely like  all  the  others  in  this  place,  except  that 
its  front  was  boarded  up.  Around  the  walls  were 
some  rude  shelves,  upon  which  stood  vases  and 
busts,  some  of  bronze,  and  some  of  discolored  mar- 
ble<  There  were  also  boxes  and  barrels  about  the 
chamber,  all  of  which  seemed  to  be  well  filled. 
About  all  these  objects  there  seemed  to  Clive  and 
David  to  be  the  unmistakable  air  of  antiquity  — 
the  bronzes  were  all  discolored,  the  marbles  were 
of  a  dingy  brown,  the  earthen  vases  were  covered 
with  mould,  and  they  thought  that  they  could  per- 
ceive on  every  object  the  stamp  of  twenty  cen- 
turies. 

The  Cicerone  now  proceeded  to  display  hia 
stores. 


SOUVENIRS   OF   THE   PAST.  325 

"  Dis,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  bust  of  discolored 
marble,  "  is  de  head  of  Constantine ;  and  dis  is 
Cicero,  and  dis  is  Virgil,  and  dis  is  Nero.  Here," 
he  continued,  lifting  up  a  vase  of  terra  cotta  with 
antique  drawings  upon  it,  "  is  an  Etruscan  vase, 
an  dey  all  found  in  dis  place.  Dis,"  he  continued, 
pointing  to  a  bronze  tripod, "  is  from  de  Temple 
of  Jupiter  Stator ;  and  dis  is  said  to  be  a  censer, 
an  was  found  near  de  Temple  of  Vesta.  All  dese 
are  autentic.  You  see  dat  basso  relievo  ;  dat  was 
took  from  de  foot  of  de  Column  of  Phocas  in  de 
Roman  Forum,  an  dat  little  lump  of  marble  dere  is 
from  de  Arch  of  Titus.  Here  is  an  urn  from  de 
Mausoleum  of  Augustus,  an  may  have  had  de 
dust  of  some  near  relative  of  de  emperor.  Dese 
in  dis  drawer  are  coins,  mostly  copper,  of  all  de 
ages  of  Rome ;  and  here  in  dis  oder  drawer  are 
ornaments  of  all  kinds,  some  for  children,  some 
for  ladies,  all  found  by  myself  and  picked  up  out  of 
de  ground.  An  dere  never  was  in  all  dis  world 
such  a  beauful  and  sheep  collezione  of  souvenirs 
as  I  haf  to  show  you  here,  all  pick  up  by  my  own 
hand  out  of  de  ground  —  busts,  vases,  coins,  in- 
taglios, basso  relievos,  censers,  tripods,  and  every- 
ting  else  dat  you  wmt  for  souvenirs." 

The  Cicerone  grew  more  and  more  animated 
and  eloquent  as  he  went  on,  and  this  eloquence, 
accompanied  as  it  was  by  the  impressive  sight  of 
the  relics  around  them,  produced  the  strongest 
possible  effect  upon  the  boys.    They  only  regretted 


326  THE   SEVEN   HILLS. 

that  it  was  not  in  their  power  to  buy  up  the 
whole  collection  on  the  spot,  a  thing  which  they 
would  most  gladly  have  done  if  they  only  hcd 
been  able. 

"What  is  this?"  asked  David,  lifting  up  a  pe- 
culiar coin  out  of  a  drawer  which  the  Cicerone 
had  thrown  open. 

"Dat?"  said  the  Cicerone;  "  dat  is  a  coin  of 
great  rarity;  only  two  or  three  more  in  de  world 
like  it ;  it  is  of  de  time  of  Marcus  Aurelius  Anto- 
ninus. I  pick  him  up  myself  in  dis  place  in  de 
ground  near  dis  chamber." 

David  looked  at  the  coin  more  closely,  and  was 
ablo  to  see  the  name  of  the  emperor  mentioned 
by  the  Cicerone,  and  his  head,  which  was  very 
plainly  visible.  The  coin  itself  was  of  copper, 
and  was  green  in  color  from  the  action  of  mould 
and  rust. 

"  Here  is  another  coin,"  said  Clive.  "  I  can't 
make  out  the  name." 

*'  Dat,"  said  the  Cicerone,  taking  the  coin  from 
Clive  and  looking  at  it,  "  dat  is  a  coin  of  the  Em- 
peror Trajan  ;  you  can  read  his  name  quitb  plain." 

''  Trajan  !  "  exclaimed  Clive,  in  deep  emotion. 
"  Is  it  possible  !  " 

"  0,  I  do  assure  you,"  said  the  Cicerone,  "  dere 
is  many  more  relics  more  wonderful  as  coins ;  now 
here,  you  see  dis,"  and  he  picked  up  a  fragment 
of  something  carefully  wrapped  in  paper,  ♦*  here 
is  one  of  de  greatest  curiosities.  Look.  You 
see.     Ha  ?  " 


AN  EXTENSIVE  PURCHASE.         327 

He  unrolled  the  paper  as  he  spoke,  very  care- 
fully, displaying  its  contents  to  the  boys.  Nothing 
appeared  but  a  fragment  of  pottery,  on  which  was 
the  drawing  of  a  head. 

"  Do  you  make  dat  out?  "  asked  the  Cicerone. 

The  boys  looked  carefully  at  it,  and*  shook  their 
heads. 

The  Cicerone  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Not  make  him  out?  Ha?  No.  I  s'pose  not. 
Well,  I  tell  you.  Dis  is  a  fragment  from  a  vase 
found  out  on  de  site  of  de  Sabine  Farm  of  de  poet 
Horace." 

"  Horace  !  what,  the  Sabine  Farm  1 "  cried  David 
in  a  transport.  "  Do  they  know  where  it  was  sit- 
uated ?  "  " 

"  All  about  it,"  said  the  Cicerone,  with  a  grand 
air;  "an  dis  was  one  of  his  wine  vases." 

"  His  wine  jar  1  "  cried  Clive  ;  "  the  four  year 
old  wine,  the  Falernian.  Hurrah!  Why,  Dave,  this 
is  the  greatest  thing  we've  seen  yet:  we  must 
have  it.     What  is  the  price  ?  " 

The  Cicerone  informed  them  that  he  would  let 
them  have  it  at  the  low  price  of  two  piastres, 
which  the  boys  at  once  gladly  paid. 

Although  the  loss  of  the  wallet  by  Uncle  Moses 
should  have  made  them  a  little  more  careful  about 
the  remaining  funds  of  the  party,  yet  in  this  case 
neither  David  nor  Clive  exercised  any  economy 
whatever,  but  fre  jiy  spent  all  the  money  in  their 
purses   on   the   attractive   objects  around    them. 


328  THE  SEVEN  HILLS. 

The  Cicerone  learned  very  quickly  in  what  direc- 
tion their  tastes  lay  chiefly,  and  what  things  were 
most  attractive  to  them,  and  sought  to  produce 
such  things,  itis  efforts  were  successful,  and 
when  at  length  the  boys  took  their  departure,  they 
carried  with  them  the  following  treasures :  — 

1  Fragment  of  Wine  Jar  from  the  Sabine 

Farm  of  Horace,  about     ,     .     .     .  $2.00 

1  Coin  of  Antoninus, 50 

1  Small  Vase,  supposed  to  have  belonged 

to  Cicero, 2.00 

1  Handle  of  Dagger,  supposed  to  have 

been  owned  by  Brutus,  ....  2.50 
6  Coins  of  different  Emperors,  at  50  cts.,  3.00 
1  Miniature  Terra  Cotta  Bust  of  Scylla,     3.00 

1  Do.  of  Regulus,       3.00 

1  Medallion  of  Hannibal, 2.00 

Coins  of  each  of  the  Seven  Kings  of  Rome,  5.00 

1  Vase  of  Coriolanus, '.     2.00 

Miscellaneous  Articles,        5.00 

Making  a  total  expenditure  of  about     $30.00 

With  this  in  their  possession  they  returned  to 
their  lodgings.  On  reaching  the  place  they  found 
Ludlow  present,  full  of  sympathy,  and  pouring 
forth  torrents  of  good  advice  to  Frank  and  Bob. 
The  unhtippy  Uncle  Moses  was  in  his  bedroom, 
still  searching  wildly  about. 


A  DISCOVERY.  329 

"  The  best  thing  your  uncle  can  do,  boys,"  Lud- 
low was  saying,  "  is  to  hurry  off  at  once  to  the 
bankers,  and  have  payment  of  the  draft  stopped. 
He  can't  expect  to  get  back  his  loose  change,  but 
he  can  save  his  bills  of  exchange  if  ho  only  makes 
haste.  The  trouble  is  he  won't  move.  Don't  any 
of  you  know  some  way  to  influence  him?  " 

"  Well,  he  isn't  generally  difficult  to  manage," 
said  Frank,  "but  just  now  he's  so  troubled  that  no 
one  can  do  anything  with  him." 

"  Well,  lads,  where  have  you  been  ?  "  said  Lud- 
low to  David  and  Clive  as  they  entered. 

"  Off  to  the  Praetorian  Barracks." 

"  0,  and  what  have  you  got  there  ?  " 

"  Relics ;  vases,  coins,  &c.,"  said  David,  proudly. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Ludlow,  in  amazement, 
"  not  all  that  bundle  !  What  do  you  mean  ?  You 
didn't  pick  them  up,  did  you  ?  " 

*'  Pick  them  up  ?  0,  no ;  we  bought  them.  We've 
got  a  splendid  lot.  Just  look ; "  and  David  care- 
fully unrolled  the  bundle  on  the  table,  and  proudly 
gave  the  name  and  description  of  each  one. 

Before  he  was  half  through  he  was  interrupted 
by  a  loud  cry  from  Ludlow,  followed  by  a  peal  of 
laughter. 

"  0,  you  innocent  youths  !  A  wine  jar  of  Horace  1 
Scylla  !  Hannibal !  Coriolanus  !  Wouldn't  anything 
else  do  ?    Ha,  ha,  ha  I " 

This  unexpected  reception  at  once  destroyed  all 


330  THE  SEVEN   HILLS. 

the  exultant  feelings  of  the  two  boys,  and  filled 
them  with  vague  suspicions. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  "  they  asked. 

For  some  time  Ludlow  did  not  answer,  so  amazed 
was  ho  at  this  credulity  of  David  and  Clive.  He 
turned  over  each  article  in  succession,  and  sur- 
veyed it  with  an  eloquent  Tace. 

"  So  you  paid  for  them  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

«  How  much  ?  " 

"  About  thirty  dollars." 

«  Thirty  I  Thirty  dollars  I  What,  not  dollars  ! 
You  mean  cents,  not  dollars  !  " 

David  and  Clive  were  silent. 

"  Do  you  know  what  these  really  are  ?  "  asked 
Ludlow. 

"No." 

"  Well,  they're  manufactured  articles,  made  to 
sell  to  tourists.  They  make  coins  and  vases  here 
of  any  age,  and  cover  them  with  rust  and  mould, 
and  make  them  of  any  tint  you  like.  Unfortu- 
nately you've  paid  an  exorbitant  price  for  them. 
If  you'd  given  a  half  dollar  for  the  lot  it  mightn't 
have  been  so  bad,  though  even  that  would  have 
been  a  waste  of  money,  for  these  wouldn't  be 
worth  carrying  home." 

Before  the  crest-fallen  boys  could  make  any  re- 
mark, a  loud  yell  was  heard  from  the  adjoining 
room.  All  started.  It  was  the  voice  of  Uncle 
Moses.     But  they  were  not  left  long  in  suspense, 


FAREWELL   TO   THE  SEVEN   HILLS.  331 

for  tho  next  instant  the  venerable  man  danced 
into  the  room,  holding  something  in  his  hand  which 
he  waved  in  I  riumph  around  his  head. 

It  was  the  lost  wallet  I 

A  shout  of  joy  greeted  him,  followed  by  innu- 
merable inquiries.  It  was  soon  explained.  Uncle 
Moses,  it  seems,  had  changed  his  coat  before  going 
to  the  illumination,  and  had  packed  his  other  in  the 
trunk,  with  the  wallet  in  the  tail  pocket.  A  final 
search,  in  despair,  over  the  trunk,  had  brought  this 
to  light. 

The  joy  which  all  felt  over  their  escape  from  a 
most  painful  and  embarrassing  situation  counter- 
balanced the  vexation  of  Clive  and  David,  and 
made  them  bear  with  meekness  the  merciless  teas- 
ing of  Frank  and  Bob.  The  remainder  of  that  day 
was  taken  up  with  further  preparations  for  depar- 
ture, and  on  the  following  morning  they  bade 
adieu  to  the  Seven  Hills. 


r^fQAT^  niAt  imn«>iow 


LEE  AND  SHSrARD'S  NEW  JUVENILE  BOOKS. 


WONDERLAND  STORIES. 


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lietters  Everywhere. 

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fun,  the  fun  of  its  seriousness,  th(.  natural  religion  of  its  ploys,  and  the  delic- 
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Who  is  our  benefactress  in  the  authorship  of  these  books,  the  world  knows 
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and  we  have  only  to  be  greatful  that  tlie  author  did  not  inflict  on  us  tlie 
customary  alliteration  In  her  pseudonyme.  The  rare  gift  of  delineating 
childhood  is  hers,  and  may  the  line  of '  Little  Prudy '  go  out  to  the  end  of  the 
earth To  those  oversaturated  with  trtinsatlantic  traditions  wo  recom- 
mend a  course  of  *  Little  Prudy," 

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Iff? 


Hiil  i  aflft13H8  *  J4, 


.l/;j;^l 


;(^» 


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2.  Charlie  Bell. 

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4.  The  Boy  Farmers  of  Elm 
Island. 

ft.  The  YounK  Shipbuilders  of 
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0.   The  Hardscrabble  of  Elm 
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tales  of  frontier  life  are,  however,  as  a  rule, 
characterized  by  such  wildness  of  fancy  and 
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«>cgy^ 


^/X9a^ 

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iilow  Charley  rtoloerts  Be- 

How  Kva  Roberts  Grained 
Her  KJclvioation. 

Charley    and    PTlva's    Home 
in   the   AVest.     .    , 

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yoiiiiK- 

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Minnie,  or  The  Little  Woman. 
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Little  Blossom's  Beward. 

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hibiMng  human  niiture  in  ehildren,  and  teaching 

some  very  important  practical  leBsona. 


d^Xcfi^ 


LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


M)QJ 


MAY    MANNKRING  S 


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Climbins   the   Rope. 

Rilly   GJ-riines's    favorite. 

The  Cruise  of  the  Daaha- 
way. 

'^l .  e    Ijittle    Spaniard. 

Salt  ^Water  Diok. 

Ijittle   Mlaid    of  Oxbow. 

"  'May  Mannering'  is  the  nom  de  plume  of  an 
agreeable  writer  for  the  young  folk«  who  possessei 
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"  Jasrinattna  anli  Inatructifae." 

THE  PROVERB   SERIES. 

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Six  vols.     Illust.     Per  vol.,  ^i. 

Birds  of  a  Feather. 

Fine  Feathers  do  Not  make  Fine 
Birds. 

Handsome  is  that  Handsome  does. 

A  W^rong  Confessed   is   half  Re- 
dressed. 

Actions  speak  louder  than  Words. 

One  Good  Turn  deserves  another. 

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LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publighers,  Boston. 


trnui.       c 


